


Caught in the System

by sassysatsuma



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 15:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 203,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16177604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassysatsuma/pseuds/sassysatsuma
Summary: 2nd Lt. Lara 'Bones' McCoy is a disillusioned medic attached to the British Parachute Regiment, Cpt. John Mactavish the troubled leader of the 141. But when a shock transfer throws the two together, both are tested in ways they could never have imagined.





	1. Prologue: Life Goes On

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

Life moved quickly in the 141. One minute you were welcoming another member of the team, the next they were saving your life. Blink for just a second and they were shot down before your eyes, life extinguished instantly. The next thing you knew? You were preparing for their replacement.

It felt wrong to be wrapping up the sparse contents of your friend's quarters within a cardboard box, to be writing their name, rank and number on the lid and shipping it to their family. And yet you'd do it, because they asked you to, a jokey statement before each and every mission. But those jokes were as real as your last will and testament. Sure, you might be laughing about who was going to steal your porn collection if you got yourself killed, but in reality everyone knew the real subtext of that conversation. The laughs were only there to make it more bearable.

Captain John Mactavish should have been used to this. In reality he'd lost many men, but every time he lost another the pain, regret and sadness was the same, never reduced or diminished. It would never be any easier to deal with. And yet he was always the man to clear away every trace of his dead subordinates, the one that Shepherd expected to be able to rely on to help him pick a replacement. It was an endless, churning cycle, one that was as difficult as it was necessary.

"Sir?" There was a soft knock at the door as Soap finished taping down the box, clearing his throat as he did so. He looked up, eyes meeting with the masked face of his lieutenant stood in the doorway. Ghost took this as a sign to continue. "I just received word…Jimmy's finally back in the UK."

The Jimmy he was referring to was Cpl. James "Chemo" Grant, the name that Soap had written on top of the cardboard box barely minutes before. Mactavish looked upwards, nodding slowly. Jimmy had been a popular member of the team as well as being their medic and his death had hit them all hard. "Full honours?"

"Shepherd's handled it." Ghost nodded slowly. He gave Soap an unsure look. "Do you want me to take care of that?" He indicated to the now sealed cardboard box.

"I'll do it." Soap shrugged quickly. "Is Shepherd here?"

"Just arrived. He wants to see you."

"Surprise, surprise." Mactavish rolled his eyes, tucking the box underneath his arm carefully. "Did he say what he wanted this time?"

"Replacement talk I think."

"Great…" Soap sighed. "Life goes on right?"

* * *

It was moments like this that made her question  _everything_.

She should have wanted to cry as she drew her bloodied hand across his face, pushing the now still eyes closed, but in reality, all she felt was numb. A failure. She'd known all along that his chances were slim, but she'd promised him, sworn to him in the casevac helicopter that he'd make it, that he shouldn't let go. She'd radioed into the infirmary about the urgency, listened to him as he mumbled about his family back home, shock and blood loss tremors rumbling through his voice. But it was all for nothing. The IED had torn him to shreds and barely two minutes from the infirmary she'd watched her friend succumb to his injuries.

She'd seen it a hundred times over, but that didn't matter. It was moment's like these that made her want to just get up and run as far from this god forsaken desert as possible.

"McCoy?" The gruff, authoritative voice behind her threw her off balance, and she span round, eyes meeting with the world weary gaze of her superior, Captain Blake. He looked past her, eyes meeting with the still body lying rigidly in front of her and nodded softly. "Richards?"

"No, sir." She shook her head mournfully. "I couldn't-"

"I see." Blake had heard the same thing throughout his 15 year career and he interrupted her abruptly, his voice remaining cool and almost clinical. "I'll get some of the men to get him inside."

"…I'd like to help." She gave him a weak smile.

"Ok." He agreed his face still as impassive as before. "But get yourself checked out while you're in there." He indicated to the bleeding patch just above her hairline, the blood beginning to mat the hair that it found there. An RPG had thrown her clean off her feet and although the rest of her was relatively unscathed she could still remember the burning pain as her head practically bounced off the hard ground.

"Sir."

"Report to me when you're cleared." Blake nodded quickly, turning to leave. "We need to talk… _privately._ "

Right then, Blake's words had very little meaning as McCoy slowly stood, waiting until the two of the other men arrived and helped her carry Richards into the infirmary. The whole while her eyes stung with tears, but she fought to blink them back, forever conscious that to release them would mean showing weakness, something she had tried to all but eradicate from herself, at the very least when she was around the other men. After all, she'd mourn her friend later, alone and away from the prying eyes of her superiors and colleagues.

* * *

"Ahhh…Mactavish." It might have been his office, but as he stepped through the door and into the small, square room it felt more like Shepherd's, the General sat behind Soap's desk, his hands knotted across the wood. He smiled a little too warmly and waved to the seat in front of the desk for Soap to sit down. "Good to see you."

"And you, sir." The Captain nodded quickly, placing the box of belongings down onto his desk before he sat down. "Chemo's things…"

"I'll handle it." Shepherd replied coolly, indicating for one of the soldiers stood behind him to come forward and take the box in hand. "Damn good man, Jimmy."

"Yes, sir."

"And he'll be hard to replace." The General nodded slowly. "Which I suppose you realise is why I'm here."

"I had my suspicions." Soap smiled weakly. He raised an eyebrow at the file that seemed to be sitting patiently on the desk in front of him. "I presume you already have someone in mind, sir?" He reached out tentatively for the file. "May I?"

"Go ahead."

There was brief silence as Soap's eyes flicked quickly across the file. The candidate appeared to be of the usual stock, an experienced member of the Royal Army Medical Corps who had been attached to the acclaimed British Paratroopers regiment for the previous year. They were young, well qualified and had stood out in both selection and the training that had come after. Although their field experience was limited, Soap deemed them to be ideal 141 material, the Captain automatically ignoring their more personal details in lieu of studying their career accomplishments further. However, when his eyes did finally move to the basic information of candidate they truly began to bulge from their sockets, forcing an almost confused splutter from his lips.

"Sir?" He looked up at Shepherd questioningly, his mouth hanging slightly open. "A woman?"

"You remember women, right Mactavish?" The General chuckled, standing up and leaning on the edge of the desk. "The first woman to make it through Para's selection…and as you've read a fine medic. " He closed the file decisively. "She was recently decorated…had the SAS flying round like buzzards until I poached her for the 141 in… light of the  _recent_ events."

"I have no problem with her gender; sir .It's just that…well the 141…" Soap chose his words carefully. "We're used to being an all  _male_  unit."

"And?"

"The addition of a woman might…shake things up."

"Your men  _aren't_  teenage boys, Mactavish." Shepherd warned. "I'm expecting paramount professionalism here."

"With respect, sir, I didn't mean  _that_." Soap sighed, rubbing a hand across the top of his head. "But some of the men…they might not like it."

"Captain…" The look in his eyes and the tonality of his voice told Mactavish that Shepherd was fast losing his patience. "When I created this task force I vowed to make it a group of the most elite warriors on the planet. People who were  _exceptional_ , no matter who they were. You see this?" He tapped the file against the desk. " _This_  is exceptional. This woman has potential, and once more she's as qualified as Jimmy was to keep you guys alive out there." He shook his head, standing up and motioning to the two soldiers that flanked him to follow him towards the door. "If your men can't handle that, Mactavish…then they better look to you for an example to follow, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." The General nodded quickly. "2nd Lt. McCoy will be with you in 48 hours. I suggest you get your head around the idea in the mean time."

* * *

It might have been sentimental, but at first McCoy didn't want to leave him.

Abandoning Richards in the morgue felt so final, as did handing him over to the base doctors on duty, watching as they checked over his lifeless body and jotted down assorted morsels of information onto clipboards. She'd hung around for a while, answering questions and telling them that he had a family, that someone would  _have_  to tell his wife before it was too late. But she'd clearly been getting in the way, and it wasn't long before the other medics and nurses hustled her out from the room, telling her that she was in no fit state to be worrying about such things.

She grunted petulantly behind the now closed doors. She was bloodied, bruised and had just lost her best friend. She was in no fit state to be worrying about  _anything_. In the real world she'd have been given compassionate leave to recuperate. In the army? She'd be lucky to get a pat on the back. After all, in the armed forces, no matter who lived and who died…life was always going to go on some way or another.

When she's finally gone to have her head seen to, she was told she was mildly concussed and would need the odd stitch to close the wound. In reality, McCoy was barely paying attention, the logical side of her brain telling her that was the concussion, the emotional side telling her it was grief. Either way she requested no local anaesthetic for the suturing, a request that the nurse treating her barely batted an eyelid to. Maybe it was the guilt of her survival, but right then in her disorientated haze, McCoy could be sure of one thing. She just wanted to  _feel_.

"McCoy." It was well over two hours since he'd asked to see her, but as she made her way into his operations tent the Captain looked barely even fazed, his hands knotted stoically behind his back. He gave her a quick nod, beckoning her forwards to the table that lay in the middle of the camel coloured tent, a cigar smouldering idly in between his lips. "I have news."

"News, sir?" All she could manage was a confused purse of her lips.

"You're to be transferred."

"Sir?"

"I thought that was pretty clear." The Captain stated bluntly. "Orders from above. You're being transferred to another unit."

"With respect, that can't be right…You told me that I would be attached to the Para's until-"

"Relax, McCoy…you're not going back to the Medical Corps." The Captain rolled his eyes. "As I said, the orders have come from above me. General Shepherd."

"Shepherd?" She gave him a bemused look. "I don't know him, sir."

"He heads task force 141. A global counter terrorism group." Blake laughed softly at her still confused face. "Think SAS, delta force…except  _bigger_."

"And…they want me?"

"Apparently." Blake shrugged. "The task force isn't like the regular Special Forces, the men are handpicked. There is  _no_  selection." He puffed out a large cloud of almost stagnant smoke. "Clearly you've impressed someone up there."

"This is ridiculous." McCoy shook her head, grimacing as the action intensified her already burning headache. "I haven't _done_  anything…"

"You passed selection into the Paras….broke the history books there." Blake shook his head dismissively. "In reality, I'm not sure why you've been chosen either."

"Sir?"

"Look…let's face it, lieutenant. You've been with us a year…and even then…" The Captain shook his head. "I have men out there who have significantly more combat experience…" He smiled weakly around his cigar. "But you're a medic, that works in your favour here."

"And if I say no?"

"…What?"

"If I reject the transfer." McCoy folded her arms across her chest, keeping her face as serious as possible. "I get to stay here, with the Paras? It's still my choice. Right?"

"You have to be kidding me!" Blake laughed darkly. "You're not considering this?"

"I'd like an answer, sir."

"Then in theory… _yes._  But come on, McCoy. Be serious for a moment. Do you realise how many people are  _handpicked_  for this task force?" He gave her his best incredulous look. "This is an honour."

"But with respect, sir, right now it doesn't feel like one I deserve."

"Oh cut the self deprecating bollocks, lieutenant." Blake rolled his eyes. "I don't pretend to understand how General Shepherd's mind works but he has picked you for a  _reason_." He sighed, rubbing a weary hand against his temple. "But if you just  _think_  for a second, McCoy. Imagine how much more of an impact your work is going to have with the task force…That's what you wanted, right?"

McCoy hesitated. What felt like decades ago she had joined the army with a naïve hope of making a difference, of being more than a GP stuck in some country practice. She'd wanted excitement, danger, maybe even a little bit of honour and heroism to finally make her stand out to her father. But then she'd slowly grown up, become bogged down with heavy sand and spilt blood. She'd lost sight of all of her previous motivation, that much was clear. After all, the fresh faced McCoy who'd gotten her into all this would have never even considered turning down such a huge, blatantly rare promotion…

"And if I accept?"

"Then you'll leave almost immediately. From what I gather their main base of operations is in the States…but you'll hear more about that from one of Shepherd's representatives." Blake nodded to her softly. "It's a full two year tour with the 141…leave included. If you choose to go after that, well, then the Paras will gladly take you back at your present rank…"

"Understood, sir."

"Are you accepting?"

"I guess I am." McCoy shrugged. "Maybe you're right. Besides…" She paused, glancing around the tent almost mournfully. "After today I'm not sure there's anything left for me here anymore."

* * *

"A woman?" Riley's voice was thick with confusion. "You have to be fucking kidding me, sir?"

"It's a done deal, Ghost." Soap shook his head slowly. "Out of my hands."

"Has Shepherd finally lost it?"

"That's your CO you're talking about, mate…" Mactavish warned, leaning his head back against the wall they were both stood against. He took in a deep breath of smoke, breathing it away from Ghost out of courtesy before speaking again. "Remember that."

"Sorry…" The lieutenant added automatically. "But with respect…has he thought this through?"

"So he says."

"I just…" Riley tailed off, shaking his head incredulously. "Don't get me wrong…women in the army, I'm all for it. But  _this_ …" He shrugged. "The 141 isn't like the regular army."

"I know." Mactavish sighed thoughtfully. "But Shepherd picked all of us. He hasn't been wrong yet."

"Unless you count Roach." Ghost joked, his mask moving subtly as his features broke out into a soft smirk momentarily. "But  _still_ …what happens when one of us is downed? She's hardly going to be able to drag us to safety. Not when we're loaded up with kit…"

"I  _know_ , Ghost."

"And that's another thing… _kit_. What if we're on a patrol where we need to carry  _everything_? We're talking 200 pounds of kit there with full ammunition…"

"I  _know_ , Ghost."

"And if we're fucking captured…interrogated? What's to say the sick bastards won't just rape her until she talks?"

"Ghost!" He'd intended for it to come out as an angered yell, but it became more of a choke as in his haste Soap sucked in too heavily on his cigarette, hot smoke scalding his tongue and throat. Disgusted he flicked the offending object away immediately before turning to his lieutenant with angry eyes. "What the hell do you want me to say? I'm caught between a rock and a hard place here."

"You could say no." Ghost shrugged. "You're the 141's field commander…surely that has to count for  _something_?"

"And completely undermine Shepherd's authority?" Soap laughed darkly. "I'm not  _you_ , mate."

"I recognise authority…"

"Just not mine." Soap rolled his eyes, pushing off from the wall quickly and facing his lieutenant. "I know it's going to take some getting used to…"

"That's a fucking understatement."

"Just play nice…alright, Riley?" Mactavish gave him an almost wearied look. "Archer and Royce are going to bitch enough as it is…" He watched as Ghost's sunglasses stayed firmly away from his gaze. "…As a favour to me?"

"Fine." Ghost finally turned to look at him through the darkened frames. "I'll play nice. But that doesn't mean I'm going to like it…or  _her_." He shook his head. "She better not be coming in here and expecting us all to fucking  _fawn_  over her…"

Soap laughed softly to himself. If her transfer into the 141 was anything like his, then Lara McCoy wouldn't know what the fuck to expect in the first place…

* * *

The amount her body was perspiring could hardly have been a good first image.

Lara sat in the helicopter, her hands cupped in her lap, thumbs drumming idly against each other. She felt as if she was on a parachute jump training run, adrenaline coursing through her body, the blood all flowing to her legs and leaving her feeling light headed. It might not have been a parachute jump, but McCoy was definitely jumping into the unknown, a situation that right then left her feeling as if anything would be better than this.

2 days ago she was in Afghanistan. Now she was in America, a country she'd only talked about distantly visiting with countless ex boyfriends. Her concussion certainly wasn't the  _only_ thing leaving her feeling disorientated.

General Shepherd was sat beside her, speaking to the pilots through their headsets. He was friendly enough, but Lara hardly felt at ease around the man, especially since she had only met him briefly herself. Back in Afghanistan Captain Blake had handed her over to one of Shepherd's representatives, Baker, a tall and imposing American soldier who had a face that looked like it was constantly sucking on lemons. He'd run her through all the official documentation and procedures, talking about all the different protocols as well as her new duties as part of the 141. To be brutally honest the man had scared her shitless, and she'd been eager to get on the plane leaving the airbase just to put some distance between them. After a gruelling flight, Shepherd had met her at the airport, and a quick journey into a suave black car had seen her being pushed back onto another helicopter, ready to make the final leg of the journey to the 141's base.

"The base is just below us." Shepherd's voice suddenly crackled through the head set, making her jump momentarily. Lara chose to stay silent, looking out through the small window and down to the isolated base, a small collection of buildings and outhouses that was encircled by thick perimeters of wire. From the air, it looked little more than the barracks where she had trained back in the UK…

"Welcome to the 141." Shepherd nodding as the helicopter began to descend. "It might not look like much…but believe me, we expect much more from you now."

"Yes, sir." Lara managed to choke, but as the helicopter touched down, she was left merely wishing that she was anywhere else in the world….


	2. Absent Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

For someone who had spent the majority of her adult life in a male dominated profession, Lara McCoy certainly looked to be terrified.

There'd been a scratchy photograph in her file, but Soap had learnt to take these pictures at face value. After all they were generally photos from the start of a soldier's career and to be fair, he certainly didn't look like the photograph in  _his_ file anymore. So as he stood idly on the tarmac, watching the figure who was almost guaranteed to be his most controversial team member approach, it was fair to say that the Captain really didn't know what to expect.

Years of reading his men told him that as McCoy strode towards him she was obviously trying to _act_  as though she was confident; her pace matching Shepherd's, arms swinging lightly at her sides. She was tall, although the rest of her build was hidden by the baggy desert combat uniform she wore, her maroon beret from the Paras stuffed into her breast pocket almost like a trophy. Dark, long hair was scraped back into a tight pony tail; the thick strands tainted by a bright red, almost as if she had dyed them months before and then allowed the colour to grow out over time. Soap smiled weakly when she drew close enough to notice him, large, hazel eyes suddenly widening further and robbing her of every ounce of confidence that she had tried to project in seconds.

"Cpt. Mactavish…your CO." Shepherd nodded respectfully, waving his hand in Soap's direction. "From now on all of my orders will come through him."

"Sir." McCoy saluted quickly and Mactavish was unable to stop his smile widening further.

"Easy, lieutenant. The 141 don't do that…"

"Oh…" The look in Lara's eyes rather resembled that of a rabbit confronted with a pair of headlights. "Sorry, sir."

"Mactavish runs a tight ship…" Shepherd laughed gently, although his voice had the same gravelly tone that he used with all the other men. "But you'll find things work differently here than you're used to."

"It's a culture shock." Soap added, trying to smile warmly out of pity more than anything else. "You'll get used to it."

"Yes, sir."

"Mactavish…I'm leaving you to finish the debrief." The General nodded curtly before indicating over to his helicopter. "I have other commitments."

"Understood." Soap agreed, just about resisting the urge to roll his eyes. It was a typical Shepherd move, the General using the privileges of his rank and authority to avoid any further awkwardness. "I'll handle it." Almost wearily Soap turned his attentions back to McCoy, beckoning for her to follow him. "Come with me…we'll walk and talk."

It was the same fleeting tour of the base that he'd give all of his new recruits, the same explanations and recommendations flowing out from his mouth almost like a tour guide on auto pilot. The hard fact was that for as long as he had been a Captain in the 141 Soap had seen many new recruits led into the base by Shepherd, and nearly just as many leaving with full honours draped solemnly across their caskets. Monotony was something that he could handle, but the constant cycle of loss and remorse was that little bit harder to bear.

"The main barracks are where you'll spend most of your free time. There's a rec room and kitchen…it's pretty well stocked but if you want anything in particular you'll have to add it to the list. My office is there too, though I'm rarely in it." He pointed across the expanse of tarmac to a smaller building. "The gym is separate…we run training drills most mornings but you're welcome to use it when ever you need to."

"Training drills?"

"Combat fitness tests; so endurance, resistance and general cardiovascular training." Soap shrugged quickly. "You're going to need the level of fitness you trained for with the Paras.  _And then some_." He watched her features carefully, vaguely impressed when she nodded slowly rather than simply looking stunned. "However… _your_  main concern is the infirmary." He lead her forwards to another large, concrete building. "We have a small group of medical personnel, but they aren't attached to the task force like us…so they will never have cause to come on operations. Inside you have your office/surgery too. You also have your…living quarters…" He cleared his throat, the words feeling awkward in his mouth. "One of the patient rooms…"

"I'm not in the barracks with the others, sir?"

"Normally you would be…" Mactavish paused, genuinely unsure of how to use his words so he didn't sound as if he was segregating her. "But it's a  _sensitive_  issue. Technically they're all male barracks and Shepherd thought that…"

"I get it." Lara shrugged calmly, although it didn't take a genius to work out that she was at least a little hurt. "It makes sense."

"It's only temporary…" Soap found himself saying, although he was at a loss at why he was actually bothering to make excuses to her. He shook his head, eager to move off the subject. "Follow me…I'll show you the infirmary…"

* * *

"She's not even that  _hot_ …" Meat announced disappointedly, turning away from the recreation room window when Mactavish and McCoy retreated into the Infirmary.

"How old are you again? Twelve?" Archer rolled his eyes, his hands busy dealing playing cards out between himself, Ghost and Toad. "It doesn't matter what she fucking looks like."

"It'd help, right?…Give us some eye candy?" Meat threw himself idly onto one of the sofas, his characteristically mischievous grin spread across his features. "Think we could get her into one of those nurses outfits anyway?"

"She's a fucking  _doctor_!" Roach rolled his eyes, throwing a cushion across the room so that it hit him in the face. "Remember the sexual equality memo, Meat? Or did it just pass you by like  _everything_  else?"

"Ohhh…" The linguist smirked. "Look who's already got a hard on for the FNG…"

"Go fuck yourself…"

"Christ!" Ghost hissed, although at his sudden outburst the room went momentarily quiet. "Just shut it…both of you." He shook his head, fanning out his playing cards in his right hand. "I'm sick to death of this FNG and I haven't even fucking  _met_  her yet…"

* * *

Surreal was a word that the military had taught her not to use. But right then, surrounded by her new surgery and a desk full of files, McCoy couldn't help but think of the situation as being anything else.

It was far more cutting edge than she was used to, more like a hospital back home than the field hospitals that she had worked in only days before. Everything was so pristine and well managed, something that she supposed was usual for such a high ranking task force. Obviously this was where at least some of the big military dollars went.

Sitting down at her desk, McCoy ran a hand across her head, her fingers idly replacing the strands of hair that had fallen out of place. Just when she had thought that her disorientation couldn't have gotten any worse, now that she was finally alone, McCoy wasn't actually sure of where she should start. Mactavish had suggested reading through the team's medical files and acclimatising, but they just sat there on the desk, taunting her.  _Mactavish._  McCoy didn't even know what to think of her new CO. Aside from the simple fact that deliberate or not, the man was easily the most imposing soldier she had met to date. In a way she didn't think he knew what to make of her either. Maybe in some ways it was better to have them both on an uneven footing to start with…

"Settling in?" She'd only just begun flicking through the first medical file when there was a sudden knock at her ajar office door, the unfamiliar voice catching her off guard. She looked up quickly, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I guess so." Standing up slowly she offered out her hand. "Lara McCoy, I'm your-"

"Yeah I know who you are." He shrugged dismissively. "Greg Fox, though everyone knows me as Meat." He looked her up and down. "Any idea how much trouble you've caused?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure it'll get to me." Lara sighed. "I didn't ask to be transferred you know."

"And we didn't  _ask_  for you either."

"Nice to be wanted."

"Oh sure…" He laughed. "But you're the FNG…so I guess I came here to tell you some rules. Lay down the law if you like." He smirked, his face the very image of self satisfaction.

"Rules?"

"Your Initiation…basically the FNGs do what we tell them to,  _when_  we tell them to do it, you get me?" Meat grinned again. "They're basically our bitches…" He laughed quickly. "No pun intended…"

"Really?"

"Really."

"You know…I can't help but feel your pretty brave, right,  _Meat_?" Lara smiled sweetly, raising an eyebrow before sitting down again.

"What?"

"Well…you're willing to fuck with your medic, that's impressive." She continued to grin, flicking through the files until she found the one titled ' _Fox, Greg'_. "Especially since I have access to  _all_ your personal information…"

"You threatening me?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." She laughed softly. "Or at least I don't  _think_  I would…"

"You're fucking unbelievable…" Meat scoffed, but he took two steps back anyway. He gave her an almost disgusted look, shaking his head. "You won't last two minutes here…"

He left the room before she could reply, not that it mattered because in all honestly Lara didn't have a decent comeback either way. Confrontations were something that she'd prefer to avoid, but after working for years to prove that she had the same drive as everyone else, Lara was quite used to being able to defend herself verbally. After all, it was all a matter of confidence. If you pushed out your chest and gave them back just as much as they gave you then they'd eventually respect you for it. Whether or not you were trembling with insecurity on the inside didn't matter as long as you could cover it well.

McCoy sighed, returning to her reading. At this rate it was going to be a long two year tour…

"Umm…hello?"

"What the-" Lara looked up again, her eyes harsh as she half expected Meat to be stood there again, back ready with some more sharp words or witticism. Instead she found a different man altogether, slighter taller and slimmer than Meat, though in possession of similar piercing brown eyes. It took her a while to notice that he was actually smiling at her, the most genuine thing she had seen since her arrival at the base. Quickly she stopped herself, adjusting her tone accordingly. "Can I…help you at all?"

"I just saw Meat leaving…he's a good guy but he can be a bit of a twat so…" The soldier tailed off, laughing softly.

"I appreciate the heads up but he's nothing I can't handle." She nodded in return, though she was unable to stop a grateful smile spreading across her lips. "I'm Lara McCoy."

"Gary Sanderson."

"And do you have one of those cute little names too?" McCoy couldn't resist a smirk.

"…Very funny." Gary laughed. "But yeah…Roach."

"How the hell did you end up with that?" She gave him a quizzical look. "Then again…how does anyone end up with a nick name like  _Meat_?"

"You probably don't wanna know." The sergeant grinned. "As for me, I'm just a tough fucker to kill, so they call me Roach."

"I see why you're making friends with the medic then."

"Believe me, I don't go asking to be so clumsy." He shrugged. "We've all been the FNG once…except most of the guys prefer to forget it. I figured you could do with at least one friendly face."

"I appreciate that." Leaning back in her chair, Lara self consciously rubbed a hand across her face. "Half of them don't want me here do they?"

"I wouldn't say that…"

"Just be straight with me, Roach." McCoy rolled her eyes. "If you really want to be friendly, at least tell me what I'm dealing with here."

"Alright." He nodded reluctantly, letting out an almost pained sigh. "It's not the most popular thing Shepherd's ever done. It sounds weird with all the things we do and see, but we get ourselves into a routine in between operations." Roach shrugged softly. "I guess some of the guys are just worried you're going to shake things up too much."

"Well I'm here to do my job. I don't intend to make waves unless I have to."

"Then they should come around. It just might take a while, that's all."

"Any advice for me in the mean time?" She wasn't sure if it was just because he was the most open person she had met so far or because she genuinely liked him, but Lara was asking his advice before she could really stop herself.

"Not really. Mactavish is ok once he gets used to you, the others will just slowly come around." Roach hovered slightly, hesitating as if he wasn't sure whether or not he should continue. "I guess there's just Ghost…maybe you should avoid him for now."

"The guy still walking round in his Halloween costume?" Lara cocked an arrogant eyebrow.

"Yeah…I wouldn't mock the mask for a start. No one's ever done it twice." Roach laughed weakly. "Riley's our XO…One of the loyalest friends you could probably ask for too. But he's also been the most vocal about your transfer." The sergeant shrugged. "So give him some space…just until you prove to him you can do your job."

"A lot to remember."

"It just feels that way now. You'll do fine."

"And what about you, eh, Roach?" Leaning across her desk, Lara gave him her best questioning look. "You trying to tell me that you're totally ok with all this?"

"Someone has to be. Maybe I'm just old fashioned, but I figure if Shepherd picked you then you're right for the 141."

"I wish I shared your confidence." McCoy rolled her eyes. "I haven't even met half the team yet and I'm already getting a bad feeling about this."

"Come to the rec room tonight…we're having drinks." Gary nodded softly, pointing to one of the medicine cupboards behind her. "If I remember rightly, Jimmy used to keep an emergency bottle of whisky in there. It's only right that you should have it. Bring it tonight and it'll gain you a bit of instant popularity, especially with Archer." He smiled. "It'll be fun."

"Maybe…" Lara nodded in return. "I appreciate all the advice anyway…I was feeling pretty lost."

"Don't mention it." Roach grinned, although when he glanced at his watch the action was immediately replaced by a frown. "Fuck…I'm supposed to be sparring with Ghost." He gave her a hurried wave. "But I'll see you tonight, right?"

"Yeah. Count me in."

* * *

A liability. Mactavish didn't relish the idea, but that didn't stop it being a very real presence within his head.

Respect and trust were things to be earned in the army and this was no less true in the 141. FNGs didn't just walk into the task force and integrate themselves straight away, after all, how could they? This was a group of men who fought and died alongside each other, resulting in a sometimes strained, yet very close dynamic, the friendship ties between each man practically forged from steel. Any newcomer would always have to prove themselves in a combat situation before they would ever be fully accepted. It might not have been the fairest of things, but that didn't matter. It was just another reality of the task force, case closed.

What worried Soap the most was the fact that his new medic might not be able to prove herself in that way. He didn't like thinking so pessimistically, but in truth Mactavish had lost too many men to be optimistic, ones who had had considerably more experience in combat that McCoy. It was this reason, or so he told himself, that he considered her to be a liability, however unfair that might have been. After all, the career accomplishments she possessed were impressive to say the least, but Soap couldn't help but question that without any real Special Forces experience Shepherd had promoted her too high, too fast. Her gender only meant that she would find settling in that bit more difficult…

"John?" Ghost was the only person Mactavish would stomach calling him by his first name and the word immediately dragged Soap's attention back to the rec room around him, the background chatter of his men a tangible presence in his mind once more. The Captain blinked, eyes focusing on Riley's skull balaclava, his worries and concerns still a fog at the back of his mind. "Still in there, mate?"

"Just thinking."

"It's Friday night…enough of that." The lieutenant laughed quickly, sliding a half full bottle of whiskey across the table top to him. "This'll help."

"Cheers." Soap smiled, quickly filling his glass. When he looked up a lot of his men around the table were doing the same, the room falling into a sudden, unhealthy silence. Clearing his throat, Soap unscrewed the bottle top again, holding it out to his right and pouring a small measure of whiskey onto the floor. He raised his glass, nodding to the other men. "…To absent friends."

"Absent friends." The brief chorus was followed by the continuing chink of glass against wood as the men downed their drinks, slamming the glasses down onto the table. Content that they had at least made an attempt to honour their friend, laughter and words emanated out into the room again, the loudest being Meat's voice as he told a particularly amusing anecdote from back when he was on leave. Soap allowed himself a small laugh. As usual it involved what he suspected to be a great deal of exaggeration over the size of one of the linguist's conquest's breasts…

It took him a while to realise, but irregular movement in the corner of his eye caused Soap's attentions to move to the far end of the room, where McCoy had practically edged in, her features trying hard to hide any intimidation that she might have felt. He watched carefully as she moved to the men closest to her, Roach standing up and offering her a seat beside Archer and Toad. Soap felt a soft wave of relief wash through him. He should have anticipated that Roach, with all of his good intentions would be the first to at least try and accept Lara.

Lara shook hands with the two snipers and offered them a bottle of whiskey, something that Archer would characteristically appreciate more than anyone else. Soap felt a small smile creep across his features before he actually became aware that he was watching the medic intently, almost fascinated with how she seemed to be talking to Toad with relative ease. She'd eased her hair out of her ponytail, letting it fall and gather around her shoulders, something that made her look notably less clinical and cold. Most noticeable of all was the simple fact that she was at least  _smiling_ , nudging Roach as if he had just said something hilarious. The smile on Soap's lips grew a little more. For someone who seemed so intent on blending into a group of men with how she dressed and walked, that smile was at least a remotely pretty one.

By chance she looked up and met his gaze, to which Soap chose to simply remove the smile from his features and nod to her instead, a much more proper reaction for a commanding officer. Mactavish didn't make a habit of smiling across crowded rooms to his team and no matter what the circumstances he didn't plan on starting that tradition any time soon.

"So that's her, is it?" Ghost nodded quickly, lifting his balaclava above his lips so that he could drink. He let out an extensive sigh. "What are your thoughts so far?"

"I don't know." Mactavish shrugged. "She could be ok."

"Being ok is one thing, but can we rely on her?"

"I guess we're going to have to." Soap shook his head, downing another measure of whiskey. "What else can we do?"

"So we're going to just take her out there with us and see what happens?" Riley scoffed. "Fills me with confidence."

"Think of it a bit like a baptism of fire…for  _all_  of us."

"And if you're the one who's bleeding out all over the floor when she's supposed to be saving your arse?"

"Then you have my permission to bring up this conversation, Riley."

Letting out a soft laugh, Soap poured them both another drink, almost instantly downing his so that he could feel the heady burn of alcohol ignite his senses. Maybe it was time to worry about something else. After all, for the most part anyway, whether McCoy was able to operate under pressure successfully was out of his hands. She had her training and as difficult as he found it, Soap would simply have to put his trust in her.

He just prayed that Shepherd in all his wisdom was  _definitely_  right about this one…


	3. Déjà vu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

Four months ago, she'd have been at home, sitting in her Mum's front room with a cup of tea in her hands and a suitably brainless magazine resting in her lap. She'd have been out with what little remained of her female friends from University, bar hopping in the cold January air or jogging through the local park with her dog.  _Living._  All the mundane,  _little_  things that made up real life feeling so trivial whilst she was on leave, but then becoming so god damn important when she was back at work.

14 days ago she had been playing pool with Richards on the base, _losing_  as always. They'd been laughing and joking, this brief respite from patrol being just long enough to remind them of their humanity, of their life outside of the Army. 13 days ago, Richards was dead and Lara's life was turned upside down in more ways than she could have ever imagined. There had been nothing on earth that could of prepared her for it.

And now? Bullets were whizzing past her and angry yells ricocheting off antique stone walls. She was cold, pinned down and undeniably out of her depth.

Then again, if she had learnt anything at all, those three things were business as usual for the 141…

* * *

_Training began before even the sun could be bothered to haul itself up into the sky._

_The first she'd known of it had been a rough knock at her door at around 5.15am, the wood rattling in its frame. There'd been an almost purposeful sneer, the jeering tone of Meat's voice suddenly sounding out into her room._

" _Oi, newbie! Training, ten minutes!"_

_The early mornings didn't particularly bother her, in reality she barely slept enough as it was, doomed to spending hours on end lying on her back in the darkness, her eyes fixed to the ceiling. But the thought of running around in circles chasing around after her team in the freezing morning air was hardly the nicest of things to try and drag her from bed._

_The first morning's training left her feeling dead on her feet. The second morning made her feel as if her entire body was on fire, though she would be damned if she'd let the others know it. After a week? Lara was no longer sure of_ _**how** _ _she felt. Either she was actually managing to slowly adjust or her body was simply numbing itself in self sympathy._

_By now she'd learnt the basics, gotten used to which men she could approach amicably and which ones were still trying to avoid her. As a rule this meant that she spent a great deal of her free time talking to Roach and by default his close friend Ozone, a softly spoken Canadian who sounded more like a scholar than a soldier. As a rule she would avoid Mactavish, although she still had no real thoughts on what made the Captain so completely untouchable in her eyes. And then of course, there was_ _**Ghost** _ _. A man who she had tried to avoid, but unfortunately still managed to get in the way of…_

_He'd been running an assault course when he'd tripped for whatever reason, hitting his head on a half demolished wall,_ _**hard** _ _. Practically against his will Mactavish and Archer had dragged him off to the sidelines, handing him over to an unwilling McCoy._

" _Remember who I am?" She asked softly, kneeling in front of him. The question was supposed to lighten the mood and test whether or not he was thinking clearly, but it simply seemed to rile the lieutenant._

" _Course I fucking do." Ghost made a move to stand. "I'm fine."_

" _I'm the one who's qualified to say that…not_ _ **you**_ _." With more force than she at first realised she pushed on Riley's shoulders, forcing him to sit back down. Ghost merely blinked back at her through the hole in his balaclava, eyes clearly taken a back. He attempted to speak but she interrupted him hastily. "Do you feel nauseous?"_

" _No." He shook his head, but the action made her notice something, a deep red trickle just above his right eye. She leaned in closer, her hands moving up to his face to examine the source of the blood. "…Whoa…what the fuck do you think you're doing?"_

" _My job." Lara rolled her eyes. "I need you to take off the mask."_

" _No fucking way…"_

" _Then I'll have to cut it off. You're bleeding, sir… It's your choice." She straightened up, watching him intently as he lifted up his hands and peeled away the wool of the mask. The scowl that replaced it however was nothing short of terrifying. Swallowing hard she avoided the contact of the angry eyes as much as possible, kneeling again and examining his face. There was a gash above his right eyebrow, oozing blood, although fortunately it didn't look to be deep, simply coated in a thin layer of dust._

" _Watch what you're doing…" The lieutenant hissed as she began to clean the cut meticulously._

" _I_ _ **know**_ _what I'm doing."_

" _Could have fooled me…" Was the only mumbled reply. Lara chose to remain silent, being sure to swab at the wound a little rougher with the alcohol wipe than she probably should have. Riley winced again, lifting his arms and nudging her aside so he could stand up. His hands were almost instantly pulling on his mask. "It's fucking clean…_ _ **ok**_ _?"_

" _You're going to have a headache…do you want some pain medication?" McCoy quickly decided that professionalism could be the only way forward._

" _That what you think this job is? Dishing out medication and sitting on the sidelines?" Riley scoffed, shaking his head in Mactavish's general direction, the Captain watching their exchange a few metres away intently. "Got a right winner here, haven't we?"_

_It was safe to say that her first real interaction with Ghost had not gone well, but McCoy tried to put it behind her, watching the lieutenant stalk off towards the barracks and consoling herself in that fact that nothing she could do or say right away would change his opinion of her. It had worked momentarily, but the seeds of self doubt in her mind were too established for her not to be shaken by Riley's apparent lack of trust in her and her abilities. As a punishment, she'd pushed herself to near exhaustion in the assault course, running it over and over until lactate felt as if it was cramping her every muscle, her chest heaving as her lungs tried to punch a hole in her body's oxygen deficit. Much to her frustration, she was still not as fast as most of the task force, but she at least managed to scrape a good few seconds off her time before Mactavish practically ordered her to stop._

_She'd gone to bed that night feeling alone, exhausted and demoralised. The three things that the task force seemed to reduce her too more often than anything else…_

* * *

"Ghost! I've got multiple tangos up ahead but no visual on codename Alpha…do you copy?" Mactavish's voice was clear, yet strained as it burst through her comms.

"Copy that. Negative visual for codename Alpha here too. Where the fuck is he?"

"Calm down, Ghost. Maintain defensive positions."

"And if he fucking slips out the back door while we're pinned down here?"

"We have sniper support.  _Archer_ , keep your eyes on the exits. If anything tries to leave then I want to know about it first, understood?"

"Roger that, sir."

McCoy recognised the exchange ringing in her ears, but her mind was elsewhere, more specifically keeping the ten or so men in front of her off their group. Ghost was knelt barely two metres in front of her, his entire body ducked behind what remained of a crumbling stone wall, Ozone and Meat further back covering their backs. A flurry of bullets sounded above her and she ducked, physically wincing at the loud clatter of the noise. She was thankful at least to be wearing her helmet and goggles, the objects easily masking her fear and almost masculinising her in the eyes of the rest of her squad. When the noise ceased she straightened up, aiming down the sights of her M4A1. A target appeared dead centre, equally masked and dehumanised and she quickly fired without any further thought.

It never really struck her how hypocritical it was for her to take a life…

* * *

" _So explosives 101…" Mactavish sighed almost reluctantly. "Just how much training have you had with regard to these…?"_

" _Very little…"_

" _So the basics then…" Lara watched as the Captain frowned slightly, although he did try to hide his disappointment a little. "Downside of you not coming through the SAS…"_

" _Sorry, sir."_

" _Not your fault." The Captain quickly shrugged. "All I ask is that if you pay attention to what I'm about to do. Because if you fuck up once with explosives, then I can guarantee that it's going to be the last time you do…"_

_She wasn't sure how it had come to this, but earlier that morning Cpt. Mactavish had singled her out, muttering something about her needing basic explosives training before they could continue. She'd expected him to pass her off to a lower ranking task force member to be shown the ropes, but instead he had seemed to elect himself as her mentor, leading her outside into the pleasantly warm air and out of her stuffy office. There had been a short walk to the live rounds training side of the base, where there were a few cinder block buildings scattered around, each smeared with the ash and soot of countless practice explosions. They were completely and utterly alone, and the quiet silence that surrounded them when Mactavish wasn't speaking felt strangely pleasant in comparison to the often rowdy nature of the rest of the base._

_She had been with the task force for nearly a week and a half now and already she had heard whispers around the base that Shepherd had plans for members of her group to be sent on an operation, although due to the paramount importance of OPSEC, or operational security these were little more than idle rumours. Unfortunately that didn't stop the occasional vague leakage of information, something that was as close to gossiping as the 141 men actually came._

_They began simply, with things like blowing the hinges off doors with plastic explosives, to priming frame charges and finally utilising anti personnel explosives such as Claymore and Elsie mines. McCoy stuck to her word, concentrating exactly on what Mactavish was saying whilst all the while wondering how the hell she would remember it all if she ever needed to within the stress of a combat situation._

" _Good…" Mactavish smiled for the first time what seemed to be a genuine smile, nodding as she armed and disarmed the Elsie mine as he had shown her, delicately placing the two halves onto the table in front. He nodded to her respectfully. "You'll be making your own claymores in no time."_

" _You can do that?"_

" _If you have to. Plastic explosive in an ice cream carton filled with shrapnel can be pretty deadly if you run a det. cord into it." The Captain smiled. "Another old SAS trick…you'll pick them up as you go."_

" _It's_ _ **that**_ _common knowledge?"_

" _Not particularly." Mactavish laughed. "But I was the team demolitions expert back then. SAS still suffered from equipment shortages…I had to think on my feet."_

" _How long were you with them?"_

" _Just over a year." Soap shrugged, turning away and packing away some of the unused equipment back into its case. "A squadron…not that I guess that'd mean anything to you. I joined at a pretty busy time…they kept me on for a year and then the next thing I hear is Shepherd wants me."_

" _Does he recruit everyone like that?" Lara allowed herself a self conscious laugh._

" _Imagine so. Who really expects to be hand picked for all_ _ **this**_ _?"_

" _I certainly didn't." McCoy shook her head. She sighed, suddenly wanting to voice all of her insecurities but keeping them to herself, choosing to stare at the ground instead._

" _Don't mind Ghost…" There was suddenly a tangible pressure on her shoulder and McCoy looked up, immediately becoming aware of the unexpected hand that was only there fleetingly, but had still managed to throw her off guard all the same. Soap withdrew his hand almost instantly, the touch hardly delicate or sensitive but still a definitive show of sympathy. "He never trusts any new recruits."_

" _How did you know?" Lara looked at him slightly confused, although she took a step backwards to put some clear distance between them._

" _I saw you obsessively training on the assault course remember?" He raised an amused, scarred eyebrow. "I've been in command a while, you get used to the different signs."_

" _Right."_

" _Just do your job for me, McCoy." The Captain nodded, gathering up the equipment and indicating for her to start walking back to the main area of the base. "The rest will come,_ _ **eventually.**_ _"_

* * *

"Sir…you have two tacticals inbound." Archer's voice rang out clear across their comms, sending a deep stab of dread through McCoy's stomach.

"Do you have a clear shot?"

"Yes, sir." Archer answered quickly. "But it's danger close."

"I can handle danger close right now, mate. Engage before they start breathing down our necks."

"Roger that."

Bracing herself, Lara waited for the inevitable tremor in the ground as the javelins found their targets, blowing up the two tactical vehicles with deafening accuracy. The ruins of the old building around them shook, sending dust and other flakes of debris into the air around them. Lara choked slightly as she fired, pinning down two advancing targets as much as she could. There were definitely fewer of them now, but the men that remained where decisively moving closer every time she seemed to reload her rifle…

"Ghost… _Ghost_! Do you copy?" When Mactavish's voice rang out again it possessed a different quality, as close to panic as McCoy had ever heard from him. "I'm crawling in tangos here, can you assist?"

"Affirmative. Sit tight, we're enroute." Ghost turned around quickly, his sunglasses obscuring his gaze as his eyes presumably rested on Lara. "Bones…you're with me."

* * *

_The look in her eyes was enough to tell him that she was by no means ready for the news. Soap took in a deep breath, resting his hands on his desk before repeating himself, his voice as clear and calm as it had been the first time around._

" _I want you to be Roach's replacement." He paused, watching her reaction closely. It didn't change. "You know more than I do that we can't send him on an operation after the incident yesterday."_

_The incident that he was referring to was an unfortunate 'accident' the day prior, where Roach and Meat had been sparring in the gym. In hindsight Soap realised he should have said something, mainly due to Roach's often quick temper and Meat's love of winding him up for the fun of it. Soap himself hadn't been present and didn't know what had been said exactly, but by the sounds of it the whole thing had got taken a little too far and the two had descended into fighting in earnest, almost like two squabbling brothers. In the end, they were separated and calmed down, but on closer inspection Roach had managed to somehow land himself a fractured wrist in the fray. It was only a hairline fracture, McCoy had informed him, but it was enough to put him in a splint for the next three weeks. And whilst his wrist was in a splint, Roach's ability to shoot reliably was under question._

" _Me, sir?"_

" _Yes." Mactavish nodded softly. "The majority of the squad are out in the field already and I've lost a valuable team member for this operation." He knotted his fingers across his desk. "I'm_ _ **relying**_ _on you here, McCoy. I hope you realise that."_

" _I do, sir." She shook her head slowly, as if she was straining to get her thoughts around the reality. "I just thought I'd have more time to prepare…"_

" _As we all did. But let me tell you…in the 141, that's not always a reality."_

" _Understood."_

" _Can I count on you?"_

" _Of course, sir."_

" _Good." Soap nodded. He reached into a file on his desk and pulled out a photograph of a seemingly average looking middle aged man, sliding it across his desk. "We're headed to Kazakhstan, to the mountains just north of Kostani. It's on the Russian border, and we have intel to suggest that this man…" He pointed to the picture. "…has a safehouse in a rural hamlet there."_

" _Who is he?"_

" _Andrei Antonov, or codename Alpha. He's a known Russian terrorist, but no one's seen or heard anything out of him for years. Until now."_

" _And what's our aim?"_

" _To find and neutralise him, along with any force he may have." Soap nodded bluntly. "However Shepherd's eager that we gather any intel we can while we're there. There's a chance that he could be connected to bigger, more influential terrorists." He leant back in his chair. "There'll be a full briefing tonight in the ops room. We'll spend the night checking and rechecking the plans, then we leave midday tomorrow. Understood?"_

" _Yes, sir."_

" _Good." Mactavish smiled weakly. "I know I'm throwing you into this, McCoy…but I really have no other choice."_

" _It's what I signed up for, isn't it?" Lara replied with a confident smile, although Soap could see right through it. He chose not to this time. "I won't let you down, sir."_

" _I appreciate that." He watched as Lara began to withdraw, speaking out again, although this time his tone was a little softer. "Although there's one more thing…"_

" _Yes, sir?"_

" _Your name." Soap shrugged. "You need a callsign. We can't say your name over the comms."_

" _A callsign?" She shook her head, her face blank. "But I haven't earned one yet…"_

" _You don't have to earn it…it can be anything, a nick name maybe?"_

" _Like 'Bones'?" McCoy gave him a questioning look, subconsciously biting her lip. "A couple of mates used to call me that when I was studying…"_

" _As in the Star Trek character?" Soap allowed himself a small laugh. "Clever. I like it." He nodded decisively. "Bones it is. Although that's definitely going to stick. You'll never be Lara again around here."_

* * *

"Ghost! Where the _hell_  are you?" The Captain's voice was almost drowned out by the eruption of gunfire all around him, crackling through the comms device ominously.

"Almost there. We have a visual, but we're pinned down!" Ghost replied, so close to Lara that they were practically back to back, both taking cover behind the same thin expanse of wall. A stream of bullets strayed past them on their right, throwing up dust and dry paint from the abandoned house's walls. "You need to move to your left…I'll provide as much covering fire as I can." Ghost said calmly, although he quickly turned to McCoy, his voice suddenly much more forceful. "Cover our arse alright? I saw more headed this way on the left flank…You cover me so I can cover him… _got it_?"

"Yes, sir."

Almost on cue, two tangos appeared on their left and McCoy fired more out of instinct than anything else, catching one of them in the chest and the other in the leg. Without thinking she fired again at the fallen man, making sure that this time she him fatally in the torso. Right then, it was pure gut instinct and muscle memory that seemed to be keeping them all alive…

"I'm going to make a break for your position, Ghost…keep them off of me as much as you can…"

"Copy that."

At first, engulfed in the sounds of gunfire and battle, McCoy wasn't aware that anything was wrong. That was until the body behind her tensed, Ghost letting out a large hiss and a stream of expletives. Out of instinct she spun around so that they were looking in the same direction, but Ghost's voice in the comms and right next to her ear told her all too well what had happened…

"SHIT!…All units, we have a man down. I repeat a man down.  _Hotel Six is down_. Do you copy? All units collapse to entry point Charlie…"

Time had frozen and McCoy suddenly realised that she had stopped completely, her eyes drawn to Mactavish's crumpled, barely moving body. For a split second she was back in Afghanistan, surrounded by sand with Richards lying barely metres away, bleeding to death. She swallowed hard.

It was the worst kind of déjà vu. But she'd be damned if she was going to lose anyone else like this…


	4. Exit Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

_She hadn't even been looking when it had happened. There'd been a loud bang, a flurry of panicked yells and she'd spun round, the rifle in her hands scanning her surroundings on instinct. She'd seen a man lying on the ground, but his face had been obscured by someone else when she'd started running. Suddenly she was more a medic than a soldier, her mind focused on the injured and her thoughts totally unaware of her surroundings. There could have been bullets raining down all around her and yet she wouldn't have known or cared, her mind forced onto a single track. After all, this was her job, her responsibility, her_ _**life** _ _. She could still remember the thundering in her heart when she'd seen that it was her friend, the one man she had allowed herself to truly trust in the regiment, fighting for his life on the sand. The image was a haunting one, a picture that never truly left her thoughts…_

That same thundering was back, making her feel as if her heart was caught between hammering in her chest and freezing with shock. The moment of inaction lasted barely a second, but in her head, it seemed to go on forever.

"We can't leave him there!" She was turning and practically barking the words at Ghost like an order, the lieutenant preoccupied with putting suppressing fire down onto a group of advancing tangos to their right.

"Then fucking  _cover_  me!" Ghost yelled back over his shoulder. "…I need to move him."

"No…not until I've checked him over!"

"Are you suicidal?" Riley paused to lay down more fire. "The area's too hot…you can't-… _Wait!_ " He interrupted himself quickly as McCoy pushed in front of him, hugging the last expanse of wall between her and Soap, who was still lying out in the middle of the next street. She glanced back at him quickly.

"Just try and give me chance to do my job…"

She ran before he could argue, dashing towards a torn up car on the edge of the street and almost colliding into the object with momentum as she stopped. Bullets clattered off the metal, dirt flew up in the air from the tarmac below her. In her ear was Ghost's voice, a controlled yell across the gunfire.

" _Archer…We need sniper support at entry point Charlie…Do you have a visual on Hotel Six?"_

" _I have eyes on. Bones, that you behind that car? Confirm_."

"It's me!" Lara yelled into her comms, ducking down lower when another rally of machine gun fire pelted her location, heavy metallic clangs surrounding her.

" _Copy that…you have three tangos approaching on your position…Sit tight_."

"Roger that."

At first, she felt as if they'd forgotten her. She knew that the three men were approaching her, hell she could  _hear_  them but she didn't dare raise her head and make herself into even more of a blatant target. The waiting seemed to be prolonged, drawn out, her legs twitching beneath her, adrenaline coursing through her veins, the little voice at the back of her head telling her to just  _run._  With great difficulty she hushed it silent.

Out of nowhere there was a loud gunshot followed by a strangled cry. Another seemed to ring out almost immediately, as if it was tracing the shot before. A couple more seconds passed and a third, final shot rang out.

"… _You're clear for now, Bones…"_

Lara didn't need telling twice. She sprinted forwards, Soap's body appearing closer as her legs kicked off the tarmac of the road. She kept her shoulders hunched, her body low as she practically tumbled into the cover of the next burnt out car, the closest object that the Captain had had the piece of mind to crawl for.

"Bones…?" He spoke out softly, bloodied hands cradling his right thigh disorientated.

"Yes, sir…" She knelt beside him, slowly trying to prise his hands away from the wound.

"It's  _fine_ …"

"I need to see it. Please…" Her voice was assertive and she tried again, moving away his hands and examining his leg. There was a lot of blood seeping from the gunshot wound, its positioning dangerous. She swallowed hard, shrugging off her medical kit and tearing into it. A quick slice at his combat trousers with Mactavish's knife allowed her to see the reddened, angry skin easily and she grabbed a gauze, pressing it down hard against the wound.

"Fuck!" Soap's eyes bulged beneath her and he struggled, his hands hovering around hers, his body half trying to right itself, half flailing hopelessly. Bloodied hands caught hold of her wrists, grabbing on tightly and the Captain craned his neck up off the floor, beads of sweat glistening on his brow. "…How bad…?"

"You're going to be fine…" She nodded abruptly.

"It's that…bad?" He let out a breathless laugh, his head hanging back, eyes tightly closed. " _Shit_ …"

"Hey…stay with me…Sir? Do you hear me? I need you to stay awake…"

"I  _am_ awake…"

"Then let's keep it that way…" One hand still applying pressure, McCoy reached into her kit, grabbing another gauze and pushing it on top of the sodden layer already pressed to his skin. "You're going to be ok…but you need to keep your eyes open…" She laughed nervously. "That's an  _order_ , sir."

Over her shoulder, the rest of the team were collapsing, moving in to form a perimeter around the entry point and Mactavish. Already she could hear Ozone and Meat moving up to cover Ghost and behind her were more footsteps, presumably Royce and Scarecrow, the two men Soap had been separated from earlier. As she felt them move in around her, spread between the cover of the two cars, McCoy's attention fixed back onto Soap and the blood that was beginning to filter through the second layer of gauze. She quickly moved to add another layer to the pile as Ghost and Ozone moved up beside her.

"How is he?" The tone of the lieutenant's voice wasn't any less brutal.

"Stable." She quickly nodded to Ozone, indicating down to the gauze. "I need you to keep applying pressure. Ok?" The Canadian nodded, replacing her hands on the gauze and manoeuvring himself to the Captain's side. McCoy took the brief respite to reach into her bag, pulling the intravenous kit from it, nimble fingers removing the packaging. "I  _need_  to get him out of here."

"And we need to move up. Codename Alpha could still be...-"

"We're still going after him?" She'd already begun rolling up Soap's sleeve to above the elbow, angling his arm towards her.

"A mission doesn't fail just because someone is down…" Ghost shook his head quickly. "We all still have a job to do."

"So do I…and right now my priority is getting him a casevac…" McCoy was certain that this was an argument she wasn't going to lose. "Let me call it in."

"You'll be on your own…"

"And right now I couldn't give a shit." She indicated down to Soap quickly. "Just look at him…he can't lie around  _waiting_ …"

"I can give you Ozone and sniper support while you wait." Riley spoke out calmly, although there was an angry edge to his voice. "The rest of us need to sweep the other buildings…we'll extract later." He glanced quickly at Soap, a flicker of concern caught behind his sunglasses. "Think you can handle that?"

"…Sir."

"Ok." He nodded sharply, jerking his head to the side to get the others' attention. "Rest of you, on me. Let's move out."

With the IV line started, McCoy pulled off her helmet, dropping it to the floor and giving Ozone a weak smile. She then leant over Mactavish, blood stained hands tapping at his face, ensuring that he was still awake. "Hey…you've stopped talking."

"Tired…" The Captain attempted to smile, but it made no real impact on his features.

"You can sleep later…" Sliding her hands down to his neck, McCoy found the thick chain she was looking for, hooking her fingers under his shirt and bringing it out into the light. On it dangled two syrettes of morphine, identical to the ones they all were wearing beneath their gear. Quickly snapping one off the chain, Lara gave Mactavish another soft smile. "Need you to keep talking to me, mate…how about you tell me more about those homemade claymores of yours…?"

"Y-you were…really listening?" Soap managed a rasping laugh although his eyes were still blinking closed.

"Of course…" She broke the seal on the syrette; her left hand pinching at his skin whilst with her right hand she slipped the needle into his taunt skin at a shallow angle, the delicate pressure of her thumb and fingers administering the drug. "You even threatened to show me how…" She smirked, pinning the empty syrette to his shirt as a reminder.

"You'd blow us all to hell…"

" _Thanks_ …"

"But the key is in…how well you tape it all together…"

"Sounds technical." Silently Lara nodded to Ozone, replacing his hands on the gauze so that he could radio ahead for their casevac. "Just how many of your own men did you maim with those things?"

"None…" The Captain blinked hard, his eyes looking increasingly heavy. He attempted to lift his head but was unable to. "What's…happening?"

"We're getting you out of here. Helicopter won't be long…I promise."

"Heard that…before."

"Well I mean it…" Lara nodded quickly, although concern riddled her features when she realised that Soap's eyes had closed. "Come on…I need you to stay awake." She slapped quickly at the skin of his cheek. "Just a little bit longer."

"Fuck…you…"

She could hear gunfire from afar, but she tried to block it out, concentrating on Soap. He was pale, tired and disorientated, but she kept him talking, even if all it became was him plying her with nonsensical abuse every time she roused him. The minutes spent kneeling at his side waiting were almost excruciating, McCoy left feeling powerless and alone. Archer and Toad had moved up, but they were busy holding a perimeter around them, silent and constantly monitoring their surroundings so that she didn't have to. Instead she was left with time to think, to  _adjust_ , panic and adrenaline replaced by worry and concern in her system. As the Captain beneath her became wearier, McCoy found herself holding onto his forearm, a gesture that was meant to be comforting at the very least. Her mind quickly backtracked. She was back in Afghanistan again, kneeling over the man she couldn't save. The thoughts were only fleeting, but that didn't affect their poignancy and McCoy eagerly tried to shake the unhealthy thoughts from her mind.

The casevac helicopter came in as close as it dared and they'd had to carry Mactavish the rest of the way, Toad and Archer holding him between them whilst McCoy and Ozone covered their backs. All was suddenly calm, opposed to the frantic movements and harsh yells from before, McCoy sliding down the metallic wall, her knees bunched up to her chest. The medics on board had instantly taken over and she watched them intently, grimacing all the while. Knowing that for now she was irrelevant was an even worse feeling than the waiting had been. She should have been relieved, content in knowing that she was no longer the sole person responsible for her CO's wellbeing, but the emotion couldn't have been further from her mind. Somehow not being there to take care of the Captain was worse than seeing the extent of his injuries for herself.

* * *

It was another four hours until the others joined them back at their temporary camp.

Before the operation they'd set up in an American military base hangar, one that had been formed during the aftermath of the Russian civil war, the Americans desperately trying to strengthen their strained relations with Russia. Although the future of the base itself was looking bleak, it had been the perfect place for the 141 to take stock before their operation, acting for all intents and purposes as a forward operations base. Their arrival two days before had been jovial to say the least and the small group had quickly established themselves amongst the serving soldiers there, trading supplies for beds, chairs and even M&Ms.

The mood on their return was far less amicable.

Mactavish was holed up in the base's medical wing, stable and for the most part being made to rest. The others were in the hangar, Toad and McCoy sitting on their traded bunks, Ozone and Archer opting to try and sleep, the thin blankets drawn up underneath their necks to protect against the cool air of the hangar.

He'd been back on the base for a grand total of half an hour before he came to find her, just long enough to check on Soap's status and give Shepherd a short debrief. But when McCoy spotted Ghost walking towards her purposefully, she immediately guessed that it wasn't a friendly chat he had in mind...

"McCoy…" He said bluntly, shrugging off his gun and kit and resting them against his bed in a couple of fluid movements. "I'd like a word."

"Sir?" She raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Privately _._ " The lieutenant jerked his head towards a quieter area of the hangar. "… _Now_."

She knew what was coming. She'd expected it the moment she'd seen the annoyance, the _anger_  in his eyes out in the field. But right then, she'd been a medic, not a soldier and she hadn't cared. But now she was back on the base, clean and wearing a fresh uniform, suddenly she wasn't so sure anymore.

"What happened out there?" As they walked she at least hoped to soften the atmosphere with a relatively mundane question.

"No Antonov." The lieutenant snapped quickly. "Barely any intel…a huge waste of our fucking time. But right now, that's Shepherd's problem, not mine." Turning his back on the rest of the hangar, Ghost stood directly in front of Lara, every bit imposing. "What I want to know is what the  _hell_ you thought you were doing out there?"

"My job. I needed to-"

"You deliberately  _ignored_  my orders." Riley cut in, stepping that little bit closer. "You undermined me…went running out there to play the fucking hero…"

"With respect, sir, I knew the risks."

"Really?" Ghost scoffed. "Because it didn't look like that to me."

"I knew what I was getting myself into, sir."

"And without Archer I'd have had two bodies on my hands." Riley rolled his eyes, the action just visible behind his sunglasses. "If you don't want to give a damn about yourself, fine, but at least try and think about the rest of the team…about the operation."

"Again, with respect I was told that my primary role was as a medic…" Lara fought hard to bite back any malice that she was tempted to push into her voice.

"And I'm telling you that sometimes the shit Shepherd shoves down your throat doesn't work in the real world…" The lieutenant laughed darkly. "We're a  _team_ …when we're out there we listen to each other, we _obey_  orders."

"But sir-"

"I don't want to hear it." Riley shook his head, lifting a gloved hand to silence her. "You might be a lieutenant back home, but that counts for  _nothing_  here. Next time you listen to your superiors, you  _obey_  your orders and somehow we work things out together. Understood?"

"…Yes, sir."

"Good." Seemingly satisfied, Ghost turned slightly as if to leave before hesitating and spinning round to face her again. When he spoke his voice was less strict, carrying with it a new raw edge, as close to hurt as Lara was ever likely to hear. "And for the record…I had  _no_ intention of leaving my friend out there. Looks like you still have one hell of a lot left to learn…"

Right then it would have probably been less painful if he had just shot her himself, McCoy left with a bundle of concern interspersed with words of self doubt where her brain had once been. Her stomach churned. It had been her first operation, Soap was stable and yet she had  _still_ managed to fuck it all up…

* * *

She'd never been very good at patience. Sitting in a hospital waiting room was one of her first memories as a child and even as an adult it was still there, manifesting itself in an all round distaste for being made to wait for anything. Sitting around and waiting to be told that someone was stable just simply wasn't good enough. Fortunately, being a fully qualified doctor had its occasional advantage and the fact that she would never be told when she could visit one of her patients was  _definitely_  one of them.

When she'd first stepped into the room she'd assumed he was asleep, the Captain lying back against the pillow, his eyes shut and the sheets drawn up to just above his waist. Moving with a deliberate quietness she'd edged her way to the bottom of his bed, picking up his medical charts and flicking through them. The room around her had been silent aside from the usual backdrop of base noise coming from outside, the usual excitable yells and grinding machinery.

"Learnt anything new…?" The croaky voice made her jump in her skin and she lowered the medical charts as if she'd been scalded. Mactavish laughed with half open eyes, a sound that was almost breathless as he fidgeted slightly on the bed. He was still frighteningly pale, the white of his skin accentuating the dark stubble beginning to shadow his jaw. "Didn't think I was a goner there…did you?" He might have been weak but there was still that same sarcastic cocked eyebrow.

"You  _should_ be asleep."

"Can't sleep like  _this._ " The Captain shook his head quickly.

"Are you due more pain meds?" Lara gave him a curious look, already beginning to flick through his charts to check.

"No…" He laughed again softly, nodding his head towards the IV in his arm. "I mean with this thing stuck in me…I'm not built to be hooked up to machines."

"It won't be for long. You lost a lot of blood."

"So they tell me." The Captain rolled his eyes. "Centimetres away from my femoral artery apparently."

"You were lucky, that's all that matters." She nodded quickly, eager not to dwell on the subject as she moved to his side. "But you're going to have to rest."

"Yeah, yeah…I know. But I should be out there with my men…" He sighed heavily, using his arms to leverage himself upwards so that he was sitting more upright. Lara instantly found herself grabbing his pillows, adjusting them behind him without really realising. When he was settled the Captain gave her an unsure, almost curious look. "Um…thanks."

"Bedside manner never quite dies." She smiled, almost embarrassed as she shifted awkwardly on the spot. To break the awkward pause she asked the first, possibly most stupid question on her mind. "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty doped up…throat's bloody sore too, but it could be worse." He shrugged. "Not looking forward to going back to base."

"Why?"

"Shepherd's going to have my arse…" Soap said almost absent mindedly, worrying his lip slightly. He gave her a weary glance, a dark laugh spilling from his mouth. "Least I can't travel for a couple of days, eh?"

"The intel was wrong…there was nothing we could have done differently."

"You can tell this is your first op." Mactavish smirked. "In his mind we probably let Antonov  _walk_ out the place…"

"Then with respect, sir…Shepherd knows  _jack shit_."

"I like you." Soap laughed. "Now you're beginning to sound like one of the 141…" He gave her a wicked smile that served to only accentuate the dark circles around his eyes more than anything else. "Though officially I should remind you of his superiority. But I've heard you've been undermining that a lot recently…"

" _Shit…_ " The word was more of an unwilling breath that escaped her lips. "You've spoken to Ghost, haven't you?"

"Spoken with, not so much. But listened to?  _Oh yes_."

"Does that mean my days with the 141 are numbered?" For once there wasn't an ounce of sarcasm in Lara's voice, her face suddenly very unsure. "He _was_  pretty pissed…"

"Please, as much as he'd like it, Riley doesn't have that kind of power with the 141. Hell, if Shepherd wants you to stay even _I_  don't." Mactavish gave her a weak grin. "Truth is, I  _understand_ what Ghost was saying…but for obvious reasons I have to be thankful that you did what you did." He shrugged softly. " _Besides…_ if it had been any one of the others being reckless…well, then Ghost wouldn't have been so hard on them either."

"Then I'm ok?"

"For now. But next time…I'd  _think_  about it. Even if I am the one bleeding all over the place." He gave her a soft nod. "And don't worry about Ghost."

"He's not making it easy…"

"You'll get used to him." Soap laughed. "Thing about Riley is; he's driven by two main things, logic and loyalty. If the two happen to clash, then he resorts to a logical way of thinking every time…he's a damn good soldier because of it. But today…you went against that logic. The fact that it was _you_  undermining him just makes it worse."

"So in short…I couldn't have done anything worse?" Lara let out a cynical laugh. "I'm  _fucked._ "

"He'll cool off and come to his senses." Mactavish shook his head. "Besides, from my perspective you did a good job today. And you didn't let my team down. Maybe if you start believing that yourself then things will be easier for a start."

"Sir?"

"You  _belong_  here, McCoy. The day you start believing that will be good for all of us."

Maybe for the first time in her career with the 141, McCoy actually  _listened_. Mactavish  _was_ right. She'd been so preoccupied with Ghost's dislike, proving herself to the others and the huge chip on her shoulder about being the only woman that she'd forgotten what was actually  _important_. The simple fact that no matter what anyone else said, she could do her job and however arrogant it might have been to admit she _knew_  that she could do it well. Why had she let one transfer shake her so completely?

There was more to it than that obviously, but for the moment at least, McCoy actually left Soap's room smiling. She wasn't so sure what it was that made her value her superior's opinion so highly, but maybe that didn't matter right then. At least she had gotten a piece of her self esteem back in the process. And whether it was a cliché or not, she was determined to keep proving to the team and to herself that she deserved to be there just as much as the rest of them.

…Particularly Ghost.


	5. Growing Pains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

"You're  _late_ …" He'd been waiting for her outside her office, making Lara jump out of her skin as soon as she stepped out into the corridor. She let out an embarrassing hiss, punching his good arm as if the act alone redeemed herself. She'd been back on the base for barely an hour and as pathetic as it sounded, Roach's friendly face was oddly comforting.

" _Don't_ …" McCoy rolled her eyes, her hands hurrying to open the door. Shoving it open with her hip she turned round, giving Gary an almost expectant look. "I need a drink. Fancy joining me?"

She didn't really wait for an answer, allowing Roach into the room and then closing it behind him. Knowing hands were immediately reaching for her inherited "emergency" bottle of whisky and two glasses, Lara sliding the bottle across her desk for Roach to pour whilst she shrugged off her khaki shirt, a baggy, men's cut that flopped to the floor unceremoniously. Collapsing down into her chair, she kicked back, reaching out for the now part filled glass and sipping at the amber liquid thoughtfully. A small smile creased across her features. "Been looking forward to this."

"Rough week?" Roach laughed half heartedly, taking a larger sip from his own drink. He was well aware of the "botched" nature of the last operation, but the question at least served to lighten the mood.

"Could say that." She shrugged. "How much do you know?"

"What I'm  _allowed_  to know. The shit hit the fan, the intel was off and Mactavish ended up with a bullet to the leg."

"So all the good stuff then?" Bones allowed herself a quick smile. "I bet you're gutted that you missed it."

"I'd take being out there over being left here like some cripple any day." Roach shook his head. "Can't watch your back when I'm stuck here."

"It was  _your_  fault I was out there!" McCoy smirked, only stopping when she saw the guilt in Gary's eyes. "Oh come on, Roach, I don't need  _protecting_. I'm not made of glass."

"I'd have still preferred to have gone… _believe me_." He shrugged thoughtfully. "Lucky that you were there, though…for Mactavish."

"I guess."

"You don't sound so sure."

"I didn't do it alone… I  _couldn't_  have. Archer saved my arse out there and Ozone was a godsend…" McCoy sighed, taking a deep drink of whisky and allowing it to sit at the back of her throat, burning her tonsils. When she spoke again her voice was strained, almost more of a croak than anything else. "Ghost is still out for my blood."

"What did you do to him this time?"

"I don't think I  _have_  to do anything."

"He'll come around."

"So I keep hearing." Lara shook her head dismissively, throwing back the remnants of the whisky from her glass. "But you didn't have to sit next to him on the plane home…"

"What did he say?"

"That was the point." She let out a dark laugh. "He  _didn't_. The most uncomfortable silence of my life. He sits there in that mask and sunglasses…for all I know he could have been giving me a death glare and I wouldn't have known any different."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"You'd think." She shrugged wearily. "But with him…he's so damn  _unreadable_. Drives me insane." She paused, sliding her tongue across her teeth almost pensively. "Is he like this with everyone?"

"Pretty much." Gary laughed into his glass. "But with you I guess it's just multiplied."

"Great…Does he  _ever_  just…relax?"

"Hell yeah…we all do." Roach grinned. "We're regular stereotypes. We fight hard, we play hard. You'll see…"

"I will?" She gave him an unconvinced look. "I doubt I'm going to be allowed on one of your boy's nights out."

"Don't need to be. In a couple of days it's Meat's birthday. As long as nothing comes up it should be a good night…"

"Meat is hardly going to want  _me_  there, is he?"

"Meat isn't gonna give a shit." Gary laughed quickly. "In the 141, the word birthday is just an excuse for everyone to get  _fucked up_."

"Sounds brutal." Lara's face was caught between distaste and curiosity.

"Maybe, but we rarely get the chance." He shrugged. "Only natural that we all go a little overboard."

"And  _everyone_  goes?"

"Aside from Shepherd? Pretty much. Even your higher ranking members of the task force. Archer, Ghost… _Mactavish_. No one gives it a miss unless they're on an operation." The sergeant gave her an almost solemn smile. "We like to make the most of it."

"So I see." Lara smiled, reaching for the bottle to refill their glasses quickly. "Well…as long as you boys can handle me nursing my own hangover rather than yours the morning after, I guess it sounds good to me." She tilted her glass to him in a mock toast. "Deal?"

"Deal."

* * *

Somewhere in the five hours they'd been back on the base, Mactavish has suddenly been propelled back into command with earth shattering force.

He wasn't sure that he liked it.

It had been frustrating, being injured and knowing that he was the sole reason that was stopping them returning to their base, the over zealous medics insisting that he should rest before the long flight back to the States. But in an odd way, it had been almost a relief. Ghost, as XO took over all of the logistics, arranging transport and improvised training to keep the rest of them occupied. No one really asked anything of him, aside from how he was feeling and there was something appealing about the lessened weight across his shoulders, almost as if the name Captain had been stripped from him and passed on. It had simply been nice to have a few selfish hours where his thoughts didn't _have_  to revolve around his men…

But he was still a Captain and as if he needed a reminder, Shepherd had been there, waiting as soon as Mactavish had set foot back on American soil. At first he had appeared good humoured and friendly, accompanying them for the last leg of their journey home, practically escorting them back to base. But then it was a different story. As soon as Shepherd had asked to see him privately, Mactavish guessed what was coming. What he'd foreseen all along.

" _Ghost gave me a debrief, but I'd like your version, Mactavish." The General had nodded quickly, almost as soon as the door closed behind them. He folded his arms across his chest, his chin angled downward as if he was attempting to stare the Captain down._

" _I'm not sure what else I can add, sir." Soap scraped a hand across the top of his head. "Ghost probably is more reliable on the events than I am."_

" _Don't misunderstand me, Captain, this isn't about your injury or how you got it. Guns are fired, men are injured." The General rolled his eyes. "What I want to know is why you let Antonov escape."_

" _With respect sir, from what Ghost found it looked as if he was never there."_

" _And all the resistance you encountered?" Shepherd let out a dark laugh. "That was just a decoy then, right?"_

" _No, sir." Soap shook his head almost defiantly. "Ghost's team found evidence of bomb making, illegal substances and burned paper that we assumed to be maps and other intel. But there was nothing to suggest it was Antonov's operation."_

" _So my intel was off?"_

" _That would seem likely, sir."_

" _I don't pull this information out of thin air, Mactavish. It has sources…_ _ **reliable**_ _sources." The General shook his head. "How do we know that he didn't run out the back door whilst you were busy assaulting his defences?"_

" _We had Toad and Archer giving us sniper support…"_

" _And they didn't displace at all?" Shepherd raised a cynical eyebrow._

" _No, sir."_

" _Even so…What I don't understand is why this turned into a full scale assault when it should have remained a stealth op?" The General's eyes remained stern, his arms folded and imposing. "Or did that part of the briefing slip by you?"_

" _We were compromised." Soap could feel himself losing his cool, but he gritted his teeth and continued calmly. "There were more personnel on the base than the intel suggested and-"_

" _It didn't occur to you to do a recce?"_

" _With respect we had to box around the target buildings enough as it was." Soap raised an eyebrow. "The terrain gave us barely any cover. We had little choice-"_

" _As field commander for this task force, Mactavish I think you need to remember what we stand for. We aren't savages and we use precision."_

" _I'm well aware of that, sir."_

" _Your recent exploits suggest otherwise." Shepherd paused, the disappointment in his voice only superseded by that in his features. "I'd have thought that after what happened to Jimmy you'd be more careful…"_

 _Chemo_. Soap barely noticed the heavy sigh that escaped his lips, his head dropping down onto his forearms, his back hunched over his desk. His death had been Mactavish's fault, his name just another statistic on the ever growing list of the fallen. And with each new name, that list itself was growing too heavy in Mactavish's grasp.

_They were out in smaller force than usual, the team made up of the most experienced 141 men, he, Ghost, Archer and Chemo among them. They'd been tasked with infiltrating and assassinating a prominent Russian arms dealer, one that Shepherd was convinced was managing to supply most of their main terrorist targets. They'd all known the plan, the target, even the layout of the safe house_ _**backwards** _ _. They'd been confident, laughing and joking as the helicopter dusted off from the base. Sitting around awaiting orders was never something they relished and being sent on such a testing operation had provided them all with the world's greatest adrenaline rush._

_They had infiltrated the base halfway when Chemo was compromised. At first, his comms simply went dead. Then there was yelling and far below him on the warehouse floor Soap saw Jimmy be dragged into the light, gagged, his face bloody and beaten. His captors had yelled out to them all to surrender, weak English interspersed with heavy Russian. Of course they didn't know how many were there, because somehow Chemo had managed to stay silent._

_Seconds passed like hours as Soap had watched from his concealed position. He was the only one who could see Chemo and his captors, the rest of the team further behind in assorted hiding places. Through his scope he watched the Russian; still speaking through Chemo's captured radio. He was attempting to bargain for the medic's life, offering them their freedom in return for their surrender. Soap had contained a dark, sceptical laugh. He was well aware that their surrender would be rewarded by a bullet to the head and very little else._

_He was forced to make a choice, lowering his gun and closing his eyes. It was either Chemo's life, or the lives of the rest of the team and the success of their operation. In the end, the only thing that could make the decision for him was cold, hard logic. The kind of logic that didn't give a damn how many times a person had saved your life or even how you thought of them as a brother._

_The gunshot had been loud, resounding, a single crack that had echoed through out the vast expanse of air trapped within the warehouse. Guilt made Soap unable to look for a good few minutes. He'd heard Jimmy's last words through the radio, the medic remaining stoic even as he stared down the barrel of a gun._

" _ **I'm not telling you shit."**_

A heavy groan escaped Soap's lips before he'd even noticed it and he lifted his head, almost cradling his face in his hands. It might have been logic that had made the choice for him, but that hadn't made life any easier for his conscience. Soap was well aware that the very moment he was compromised, Chemo would have known he was finished. They were all experienced, battle hardened and they knew the risks, knew the reality that rescue was something too unlikely to be hoped for. But none of that helped. Soap had been close enough to fire, to stop Chemo's captor and a good couple of his men before they'd picked up his position on the shadowed walk way above. But at the same time, his hands had been tied. One bullet could have compromised the rest of his men completely. The reality of command often left him like this. Caught between doing was right  _morally_  and what was right for the rest of the 141.

It never stopped leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

"John?" The familiar cockney twang shook Mactavish from his thoughts and he jumped in his skin, suddenly becoming aware that he was sat in his office. Sighing hard he rubbed at his eyes with his palm, inwardly wishing that he could just stay silent and will Ghost away. It didn't work, as the door was already opening before Soap had even opened his mouth to reply. "Got a minute?"

" _Sure_ …" Mactavish sighed, although he instantly regretted the sarcasm in his voice. "What's wrong?"

"I saw Shepherd leaving your office…" The lieutenant shrugged. "By the looks of him I guessed that he'd given you a kicking."

"Could say that." Soap gave him a weary smile. "But he wants results and we didn't provide them."

"Even  _we_  have limitations." Riley shook his head, taking a few steps further into the room. "Can't get results if they aren't there to start with."

"I  _know_  that, you  _know_  that…but Shepherd's forgotten." Soap laughed softly. "It doesn't matter…just means that I'm on his black list for a while."

"Shepherd's not so whiter than white. Just look at the FNG he sent us…"

"You mean Lara…" Mactavish instantly corrected him, visibly grimacing. "Do we have to do this  _now_?"

"I hadn't said anything…"

"But you were about to, right?"

"No…but she _is_  a liability, John."

"She saved my  _arse_  out there, Riley."

"And she still could have saved it if she'd followed my orders. That's why we have a chain of command isn't it?"

"You and I both know that sometimes that doesn't work." Soap shook his head, a dark laugh leaving his lips. "Sometimes we're forced to just  _react_ …"

"You're  _actually_ defending her?"

"I don't think I need to." Soap snapped, standing up slowly. "You've been gunning for her since the minute she got here…and I put up with it. First because I thought the same and second because I  _know_  you, Riley. You're not often wrong about people." He shook his head. "But this time I think you might be."

" _Really?_ " Ghost scoffed. "So we can all undermine authority, just as long as no one  _dies_?"

"Watch your fucking tone." Soap warned, something clicking in his mind, pressure and frustration accentuating the anger he already felt. "I didn't say that."

"Fucking sounded like it."

"I meant that if it had been anyone else, you wouldn't still be doing this."

"And?"

"And I need to trust that my team can work together…but with your constant  _bitching_ , right now I can't…alright?"

"I don't believe this." Riley shook his head incredulously. "How long have you known me? And now  _I'm_ the fucking liability?" He laughed sarcastically. "Bloody typical."

"You're not a liability…but you  _are_  acting like a tosser, and right now that's the  _last_  thing I need." Soap rolled his eyes. "I'm enough of your friend to be honest here, mate."

"And you honestly trust her? All the bullshit aside...?" There was no ignoring the piercing, almost intense glare of blue eyes through Ghost's balaclava.

"Yes…I  _have_  to. She saved my life and I owe her that much at least." Soap blinked hard, his eyes already weary of the short lived confrontation. "She can do her job…at least accept that."

"But-"

"Simon… _come on_ …" Mactavish resorted to an almost pleading look, willing to back down ever so slightly in order to pacify the lieutenant. "I'm not asking you to like her."

"I barely even  _know_  her."

"Then maybe you should try…" Soap rolled his eyes. "You can't trust someone you don't know."

"I  _don't_ trust her."

"And I'm not asking you to, or at least not straight away. Just trust that she's a good medic…ok?" Mactavish raised an eyebrow. " _Ok_ , Ghost?"

"Just  _fuck off_ , sir." Riley grunted quickly, turning on his heel and heading towards the door. "I don't need you to tell me what I can and can't think…"

He should have stopped him, but instead Mactavish let Ghost leave, watching him storm off silently. He'd lost his patience, something that was always a mistake with Ghost, the lieutenant being far too comfortable with conflict to ever really back down. Running his hand across what remained of his hair; Mactavish sat down, cursing himself. Ghost was one of his most trusted friends, someone who he prided himself on knowing inside out and yet he'd  _still_  managed to confront him in the worst way imaginable.

Soap sighed. For the second time that day he'd actually managed to make things worse, rather than better.

* * *

Simon Riley had three main ways of dealing with pent up frustration; fucking, violence or physical exercise. Sometimes, depending on how bad it got, he'd need all  _three_.

However finding something to fuck was highly unlikely. He was on the base and no matter how frustrated he got he wasn't prepared to get up close and personal with one of his team mates. Violence was also off the menu. He was staring down the barrel of a good few days operation free and as tempting as it was to just go and punch Meat's lights out he couldn't quite be bothered to have to face the wrath of Mactavish for the second time that evening.

He'd left Soap's office livid, betrayed, his best friend's words ringing in his ears. He'd tried to shrug them off as he'd headed straight for the rec room, the promise of cold beer and mindless chatter drawing him in. It was the same old scene, the familiar idle chatter and jibes between the different men giving the room a strange, almost comforting quality. Not that right then Riley could have cared as he grabbed a beer and slumped down opposite Roach who was busy staring intently into a chess game they'd half heartedly begun playing earlier. Rolling his mask up to just above his mouth, Riley took a long, deep pull of beer, enjoying the feeling of the iced liquid running effortlessly down his throat. Gary in the meantime continued to stare at the chess board, his brow furrowed, hand hovering over his next move.

"I can mate you in three whatever you do." The satisfaction of winding the sergeant up at least dulled the anger in his system, if only for a split second and a smirk twitched across Ghost's exposed jaw.

"I'd keep my eye on that queen before counselling with others." Roach replied with a quick cock of his eyebrow.

He'd have replied with something equally as witty but before he had the chance, Riley caught sight of Soap stepping into the rec room, his face drawn and his eyes avoiding Ghost's purposefully. Riley watched him for a second as he strode over to get his own beer out of the fridge, a sarcastic laugh etching its way across his features.

"Run in with Mactavish?" The knowing look in Roach's eyes told Ghost that the action hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Fuck off, Roach." Riley replied with a roll of his eyes, throwing his head back and quickly draining the glass bottle of beer. When he sat upright again his voice was filled with deliberate malice. "Shouldn't you be off stalking your girlfriend right now?"

"Oh fuck you too, mate." Was his only ill tempered response.

He couldn't sit still and the prospect of sitting in the same room as the Captain right now was hardly tempting as Ghost stood up quickly, almost petulantly pulling down the wool of his mask to cover his skin. By the time he'd made it to his room, he'd already realised that the only company he could tolerate in this state of mind was his own, his hands reaching for his training gear almost of their accord. Changing quickly and efficiently, Riley shed his mask, tossing it onto his bed casually and heading straight for the door.  _Option three, physical exercise_. At least in the gym he could pound his body senseless and not have to worry about anything or anyone else.

Or at least, that had been the  _idea_.

It was almost cruel, but he didn't intend on backing down now as he stepped into the gym, his for once bare eyes greeted with the face of the one person that right now he wanted to avoid more than Mactavish himself.  _McCoy._  He'd desperately tried to hide his surprise, but in reality Ghost hadn't expected to see anyone even remotely near the gym. After all, it was 9pm on a Friday night. Who in their right mind wanted to train unless they had something they were trying to frantically work out of their system like him?

He didn't really acknowledge her presence, instead heading straight for the water cooler and pouring himself a drink, instantly wishing that he'd opted to wear his mask as some kind of protection. As he drank he kept his back to McCoy, although over the constant whir and hum of the treadmill he could still hear her ragged breathing, the soft pound of her trainers against the rotating rubber track, the sounds reminding him undeniably that she was  _still_  there no matter how much he wished she wasn't. For a moment Riley weighed up whether it would be better to just walk out and jog a few laps around the base, but in reality even he knew that he wasn't  _that_  immature. Besides, leaving now would feel like he was ceding his territory, and right then Riley could think of  _nothing_ worse than to let Lara reign triumphant over the gym as well as everything else.

He didn't want to compete with her so he headed straight for the weight machines, setting them to the highest weight he could physically handle and sitting down, his muscles burning as they took the strain. A crooked smile wound its way across his features and Ghost hissed loudly as his biceps contracted, the heavy weight causing the muscles to stretch and grow hot beneath his skin. After five painful repetitions his body was burning, but that didn't feel like enough of a release so he forced himself to do another agonising five, his torso trembling against the weight, the chink and clank of the machinery forming a steady rhythm in the room as he continued to work.

When he finally allowed himself the time to rest, Ghost sat hunched, his forearms resting on top of his bare knees, his shoulders, back and arms feeling tight and strained from the weight lifting. Beads of sweat were already beginning to dampen his brow and he tilted his head upwards, wiping them away with the back of a gloved hand and catching sight of Lara in the process. She still had her back to him on the treadmill, something that suited him just fine, the medic's thoughts lost in a world of her own, earphones dangling from her ears. Riley allowed himself a single second of jealousy. To be able to switch off from the world like her was a skill that he was unlikely to ever truly possess.

When he'd told Mactavish that he barely knew her, Riley hadn't been lying. He found it hard to trust people at the best of times, never mind when they were complete strangers. Sure…he hadn't tried to get to know her, but in his defence the medic had taken to avoiding him like the plague too, and as a result they had never really spoken about anything that wasn't strictly 141 related. If he had been a better man, Riley would have attempted to change that, maybe even offered her a nod of acknowledgement as some small sign that he was ready to make amends. But he  _wasn't_  that man. Sure, Riley could recognise the right thing to do from miles away, but in this case at least he couldn't bring himself to actually  _do it_. Sitting in a corner and seething just felt like a much more safe and satisfying option altogether.

Or maybe, deep down he simply didn't want to give her the chance to prove him wrong. After all, for her entire time with the 141 Ghost had demeaned her, undermined her, labelled her a liability. To be proved wrong now would be a severe dent to his pride and if there was one thing Riley hated above everything else, it was being made to look like a fool.

It was after this jumbled, extended period of thought that Ghost suddenly realised that he'd been staring at Lara the whole time, an altogether strange and unsettling reality. It was the first time he'd seen the medic look even vaguely feminine, her characteristically over sized uniform of men's shirts and combat trousers replaced by a closer fitting vest top and running shorts. That was hardly a good excuse but nonetheless his eyes slipped almost subconsciously to her legs, watching their regular, paced strides intently. She possessed a toned, yet boyish figure but for that split second she could have been a glamour model, the long, lean legs suddenly wrapped ruthlessly, almost hungrily around his waist, a fleeting picture painting itself in Ghost's mind's eye. He swallowed hard, instantly shaking the almost horrific thoughts from his head and ignoring the slight shiver they had forced down his abdomen.

He was desperate, or at least that's what he reasoned as he took the strain of the weights again, working faster this time to almost punish himself for the thought.  _Desperate._  This was  _McCoy_ , the smart mouthed bitch who didn't seem to acknowledge his authority. She was hardly his fantasy. Ghost allowed himself a soft, breathless laugh as he pulled down on the weights again. He was definitely desperate, frustrated, his sex drive lying well and truly neglected. After all, it had been 3 months since he'd managed to get laid and even  _then_ it just been the one night, hardly enough to keep him satisfied for long. No wonder his body was looking for likely conquests, or more specifically, the  _one_  conquest available, the only woman for miles of their base. Tensing his muscles again, Ghost let out a pained sigh.  _It wasn't about Lara at all._

Or as Riley continued to overwork his muscles; that was at least what he tried to tell himself…


	6. Dysfunctional

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

_It was safe to say that when it came to emotions and relationships, Lara McCoy was at least a little dysfunctional._

_She'd been in love once, Toby, a suave, sweet talking business manager who'd kept her amused with various sarcastic anecdotes when they'd met by chance on one of her rare nights out. She had boyfriends in the past, but never something as serious as this had been. What had started out as the odd, casual date had soon become something more serious and after nearly three years, Lara was convinced that they were nigh on inseparable._

_It was a typical Saturday night at that flat, both of them sprawled out in front of suitably mindless TV, fast food containers sitting idly in their laps. Lara had her legs drawn across Toby's, as intimate an act as she could stomach for any prolonged period of time. She was babbling mindlessly, as always, her voice in constant competition with the television set._

" _I was thinking…this weekend we should probably drive up and see my Mum; I said I would next time I made it out of the barracks. Maybe we could make a weekend of it? Do something a bit different? Book a hotel. What do you think?" She paused to draw breath and smiled at him softly. "Both need a holiday right?"_

" _Lara…"_

" _Yeah…I know, money's a little tight…but we don't have to break the bank do we?"_

" _ **Lara**_ _…" Toby persisted, pushing her legs off his lap. "…I didn't mean that."_

" _Then what did you mean?"_

" _I…slept with someone." His brown eyes were filled with regret, but his tone was blunt, direct._

" _W-what?" Suddenly the world seemed to make that little bit less sense._

" _I slept with someone…another woman."_

" _Who?" Lara was inching her way down the sofa, as if he was white hot and simply being near him was a scalding presence on her skin. Inside her skull, thoughts were crashing off each other like angry waves, but somehow amongst the confusion Lara managed to keep her voice to a low, controlled tone._

" _Some girl from work…"_

" _Some girl?" The medic scoffed, standing up. "When?"_

" _It doesn't matter."_

" _You fucking tell me_ _ **when**_ _…"_

" _3 months ago…" He bit his lip, watching as Lara counted back the weeks in her head. "I know it looks bad but-"_

"… _I was on tour…" Her voice wavered and Lara could feel hot tears prickling in the corners of her eyes, but she quickly blinked them back, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her so hurt. "You were fucking some bimbo whilst I was in Afghanistan…?"_

" _Lara…I'm so sorry…"_

" _No you're not." She laughed darkly, rolling her eyes. "So don't try saying it."_

" _You don't understand…I never meant to-"_

" _Never meant to what? Hurt me?" She flashed him a cynical smile. "Cheers…makes me feel so much better."_

" _I didn't think-"_

" _Yeah…why didn't you think? Or was it just convenient to just forget about me?" She laughed again, a pained smile splitting her face in two. "Why didn't you just 'forget' now? Why did you_ _ **have**_ _to tell me?"_

" _Because I'm sick of pretending that_ _ **this**_ _…" Sitting forwards Toby indicated around the living room with an angry wave. "…is enough anymore."_

" _So you screw someone else?" She shook her head, her face rupturing into a confused scowl. "What the hell happened to_ _ **talking**_ _?"_

" _We never talk…you're never fucking here!" Toby spat, standing up so that they were stood face to face. "Sure…what I did was wrong. But I'm sick and tired of coming second, Lara."_

" _Second? I fucking love you, Toby…"_

" _But you love the army more, right?" He rolled his eyes. "Your fucking job…it always comes first. It always has!"_

" _It hasn't…"_

" _Really?" He laughed cynically. "You're either on tour or you're avoiding my questions about what happened out there. Now all you do is fucking train for this Paras selection…" He shrugged, holding his arms out wide. "You never let me in…you never have. And right now I'm just sick of trying…"_

Groaning, Lara turned in bed until she was laid on her back, the sheets hot nuisances clinging to her body. She blinked hard, but in the dark of the room it didn't make any difference, her vision still encased in shadow. The base might have been completely silent, but the noise in her head had never been any  _louder_.

She reached for her alarm clock.  _3.35am_. A weak smile flittered across her features. At least she had training to look forward to in just two hours time. She let out another irritated groan. Her insomnia left her feeling so completely helpless.

Her past relationships were just one of the daemons that confronted her at night, but over the last couple of days they had been far more prominent in her mind, failures pressed into the forefront of her thoughts. She knew why exactly, but the reason was so terrifying and wrong that she wanted to push it away, pretend as if it didn't exist. It was just simpler that way.

She didn't like the idea of getting involved with another soldier, or at least not one within her regiment. She'd always been so strict about that, even when the occasional offer had come along within her barracks. And then she'd had Toby and all other men were just not the same in comparison. That had been the beauty of her friendship with Richards. He was young, attractive and kind but he was married and loyal to his wife. Lara had felt very safe with him.

But this wasn't just an attraction to a fellow soldier. This was something bigger, something scarier and far more dangerous. This was an attraction to her  _commanding officer_.

She'd realised one night after her first operation, tossing and turning in her stiff bunk in the hangar. It had been a sudden realisation; a terrifying  _'what if'_  that after much thought and debate actually became truth. After all, it explained everything, her unwillingness to hand the Captain over to the other medics and why she had found herself visiting him more often than she probably should have. It explained why she was so eager to please him, so horrified when she'd realised that Ghost had complained about her in his debrief. But most of all it explained the fleeting feeling of pure euphoria she'd felt that day he'd told her that she  _belonged_  in his task force. The emotion had been so much more than relief, even if she was unable to acknowledge it at first. And now she'd realised, Mactavish was never really that far from her thoughts.  _Especially_  at night.

Hitting the mattress in frustration, Lara clamped her eyes shut, but it made little difference, that familiar if scarred face suddenly appearing in her mind's eye. She felt as if she knew it so intimately, shadowing stubble leading down to a tanned muscular neck that dipped below the neck of his shirt, the defined adam's apple suddenly so intriguing whenever he spoke. Grunting in annoyance, Lara cursed herself. She was acting like a pathetic school girl. Or at the very most, she was acting like such a  _woman._  And no matter what Shepherd told her, in reality Lara knew that there was no place for women in the 141. Not in any real sense.

In some ways it was almost sickening to think that Mactavish just thought of her as one of 'the boys'…

* * *

Hours later, aching and still immeasurably tired, Lara found herself sitting at her desk. Training that morning had been particular brutal with Ghost still in charge and even the strong cup of coffee sitting half drunk in front of her was barely helping awaken her thoughts. She let out a wearied yawn, looking down to the supply orders sitting in front of her and ticking another box. She'd picked paperwork since she had hoped that it wouldn't require that much effort. In reality it was just sending her further and further into unconsciousness.

A knock at the door made her realise that her eyes were firmly closed and Lara stood up instantly, more to wake herself up than anything else. "Umm…yeah?"

 _Mactavish._ The last person on earth she wanted to see right then.

"I just spoke to Ghost…" The Captain nodded abruptly. "He said you had some forms for me to sign?"

"Medical supplies, sir." She smiled, indicating to her desk. "I'm…just working on them now." She hesitated, worrying her lip subconsciously. "I was going to bring them over…"

"I came here to save you the walk." Soap shrugged. "Are you nearly finished? I might as well wait here…" He was already pulling up a chair to sit opposite her.

"Sure…" Lara returned to her own seat, but in her head she was screaming, silently willing Mactavish to reconsider and leave, his piercing eyes watching her the last thing she needed that morning. But the Captain remained completely unaware, leaning back in his chair and bringing his hands together in his lap patiently. In her peripheral vision Lara could see him watching her as she began writing on the forms, her hand unable to fully hide a yawn that forced its way through her lips.

"You look shattered…" The statement was blunt but it wasn't unkind.

"I don't sleep much." She shrugged quickly. "But it'll pass."

"Can't you…you know… _prescribe_  yourself something?"

"Bad idea. The day doctors start prescribing their own drugs is the day the whole system descends into chaos." She laughed softly. "Or at least I think so anyway."

"I suppose you're right, but you're no good to me half awake."

"Says the man with the gunshot wound." Lara couldn't stop herself from retorting. "How are you feeling anyway?"

"I've hard worse." The Captain shrugged dismissively. "I'm better of lying down, then the pain just comes and goes."

"And how's the pain in general?"

"Bearable. I'd rather have it than not, tells me that I'm healing." He gave her a crooked smile. "Besides… I hate pills."

"I  _know._ " Lara rolled her eyes. "But I still think I should take a look. You're due a new dressing anyway."

" _Great._  And I suppose you want to do that whilst I'm here?"

"Just as soon as you've signed these forms for me, sir." Lara replied with a quick grin, sliding the papers along the desk. "I promise I won't be long."

She watched as Soap gave her a reluctant look, flicking through the reports quickly to check that everything was in order, his hand quickly signing in scratchy black ink when necessary. When he was content he slid the papers back across to her, raising an expectant eyebrow as he stood up. "Where do you want me?"

"Over by the examination table…" She waved across to the other side of the room, reaching for a pair of medical gloves from the cardboard box on her desk as he complied. Shrugging off her khaki shirt to expose her sludge green t shirt, she washed her hands out of instinct, drying them fully and pulling on the gloves. When she turned round, Soap was watching her curiously, his legs dangling off the end of the table, hands again resting in his lap.

"Why do you wear that?" He gave the shirt lying on the back of her chair an almost thoughtful nod.

"I just do." She shrugged on her way over towards him.

"It's ten sizes too big."

"It's  _comfy_ …" Lara rolled her eyes. "Does it matter?"

"Not at all."

"Good. Although before we could continue, I'm afraid I'm going to need you to pull down your jeans." She took a step back, inwardly willing away the slight flip of her stomach when she said the words.

"Makes sense." The Captain stood up slowly, hiding a wince of pain almost expertly as his hands moved down to his belt buckle, throwing it open. Lara just about managed to avert her eyes as his hands began to push down at the denim, sliding it past his baggy black boxers and down past his knees, a slight hiss of pain leaving his mouth as it brushed against the wound.

"Thanks." Resisting the horrendously unprofessional thought of running her hands along the toned, tanned thighs, Lara reached for the wound, slowly and gently lifting the dressings to reveal the skin underneath. It was still angry, reddened and painful looking but it was at least showing the first signs of healing properly. "Is the pain getting better or worse?"

"Better." Mactavish laughed. "Why?…Do you think I'd have kept it to myself?"

"You might have a reputation with being tough, sir." Lara nodded quickly, discarding the old dressing. "But that never impresses medics."

"And what does?"

" _Honesty_. Makes our job ten times easier." She took a closer look at the wound. "But I'd say you're healing well, sir."

"Good to know. Any idea when I'll be off the injured list?"

"Let's not run before you can walk." Lara laughed, pressing another dressing to the wound. "But  _soon_."

"Good." He paused, taking a sharp breath inwards as the new pressure was applied. "I don't like the idea of being stuck here and still sending men out to risk their lives."

"But you're no good to them like this…"

"I don't like knowing that either." He let out a quick laugh, obviously desperate to lighten the mood. After a few moments awkward silence he spoke out again, a lighter edge to his voice. "You going to be in the rec room tonight?"

"I'd be antisocial to miss it…even if Meat isn't my biggest fan."

"If it's anything like Roach's birthday then he'll be too pissed to care."

"Then I'll be there…with a big bottle of vodka naturally." She looked up just in time to catch the look of disapproval in Soap's features. "They didn't have any decent whisky…"

"And what do you class as 'decent'?"

"Anything single malt and over 12 years old…" She smiled, checking that the dressing was secure before straightening up. "Anything younger than that has no taste."

"Impressive. You'd make my Da proud." Standing, Soap began pulling up his jeans, fastening the belt buckle loosely so that it hung off his hips. He gave Lara a warm smile. "You sure you're not Scottish?"

"My Dad was." McCoy nodded quickly, eager not to dwell on the subject. She cleared her throat, disposing of her gloves. "But it's not just you Scots who know a bit about whisky."

"Obviously." The Captain rolled his eyes. "So I'm all finished?"

"Completely. Or at least…there's nothing more I can do for you, sir."

"Good…" Soap hovered, for a minute looking as if he was about to say something more. He opened his mouth to speak, but paused, his brow furrowing in soft concentration. When he finally did speak again, McCoy could tell that he'd decided against his original statement. "Well thanks…for patching me up.  _Again_."

"It's my job, sir."

"And you do it well." Turning on his heel, Soap made for the door quickly, opening the door and half stepping out of it. He hesitated again, turning round so that his blue eyes met hers again. "And I'll see you tonight?"

"Sure…" She smiled. "Long as you can still see straight by then."

"Touché."

* * *

After fifteen shots of vodka, the world wasn't just  _spinning_ ; it was beginning to fall straight off its axis.

"It's  _tails_ …sorry, Meat…" Roach grinned, pushing a sambuca shot towards the reluctant linguist. They'd been playing the same betting game for the last five minutes, where every time Roach threw a tails on his coin, Meat would be forced to take a shot. Unfortunately for Greg, Roach's coin was double sided and the alcohol in his system prevented him from coming to such a conclusion.

"No way, man. This is fucking ridiculous…you hear?" Meat was already looking a bit green as he lifted the shot glass to his lips. Two seconds later the clear liquid was gone, a strong grimace strew across Greg's features. "Fuck…that one  _stung_."

"This isn't going to end well." Lara nudged Roach in the side harder than she planned, losing her balance slightly in the process.

"That's the idea, Bones."

"Well I'm off duty…" She laughed quickly, speaking into his ear over the god awful dance music that Royce, the elected DJ for the evening, had decided to play. "…If he's going to be sick then I don't want to be in the firing line."

"Coward!" Roach merely laughed.

The rec room had hardly been transformed, but that didn't really matter by this point of the night with everyone staggering around in a drunken haze. There were two banners hung at either end of the room by Scarecrow and Ozone, but already one of them was beginning to droop down and dangle at head level, the silver lettering glittering in the low lights. In the corner of the room, Royce had rigged two over sized speakers to the existing music player, adding a subwoofer which gave a club like rumble to the bass of the music, soft vibrations travelling through the floor. The air was more of a warm cloud of smoke, Archer and Soap practically chain smoking over by the kitchen, engaged in some kind of conversation. As Lara moved away from Roach she managed to take in too deep a breath, stumbling slightly as she choked.

"Whoa…you ok there?" There were two hands on her shoulders and she found herself looking into Ozone's dark eyes, the Canadian seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

"Fucking passive smoking…" Was her only reply.

"You get used to it. Do you want to sit down?"

"Do I look that bad?" Lara laughed, focusing her eyes on Ozone's face. It was the last time she ever agreed to a shot challenge with Roach, the man's tolerance was nigh on incredible. "Are you drunk?" The question was so ridiculous that she knew she'd cringe at it in the morning.

"I know my limits." Ozone smiled. "Though maybe I should get you some water…?"

"I'm  _fine._ " Lara shook her head, blinking when the world tilted undesirably. In the corner of her eye she could see Ghost and Scarecrow trying to down pints of beer, the lieutenant still looking so alien without his skull balaclava. Tilting her head in Meat's general direction, Lara let out a quick laugh. "Meat is  _already_ off his face."

"Yeah…tradition I'm afraid." Ozone smirked. "It was Roach's turn last time…you should have seen the state Meat got him into…"

"So this is revenge, right?" Lara grinned in return. "Remind me to spend my birthday at home this year…"

"Laraaaaa!" Roach's voice was suddenly right in her ear, his arm slung around her shoulders lazily as the sergeant sidled up beside them, a huge smile on his features as always. His words were slightly slurred, but compared to the rest of them he was nearly as sober as Ozone. "You need another drink…"

"What happened to Meat?"

"He went from a bit green…to  _a lot_  green…" Roach laughed quickly. "I left him with Rook and Toad."

"He's going to feel like death in the morning…" Ozone smirked.

"He's just turned 28…who gives a shit? He's  _old_ now." Roach grinned, pulling away from Lara and holding a pint class of what looked to be coke out to her. "For you."

"What's in it?"

"Coke…"

"…And?" Lara raised a sceptical eyebrow, taking the drink from him and risking a small sip. She instantly grimaced. It was definitely coke but at least half of it tasted bitter and suspiciously of straight vodka. " _Fuck_ …"

"Good, right?" Roach smirked. "Bring it over when you're ready…We're gonna play another drinking game with Meat…"

"Really?" Lara risked a look over her shoulder, to where Meat was already sitting with his head in his hands. "I'm not sure he can take much more…"

" _Exactly_." Gary laughed. "Like I said…come on over…It'll be fun."

With Ozone gone and Roach back to tormenting Meat, Lara was left standing on her own, her eyes skimming the room for who to talk to next. Some of the other 141 men she didn't know so well were there too, and part of her suggested talking to them, but in reality she knew that a drunken conversation now was hardly a friendship starter. She even toyed with heading over to Royce and telling him to change the music, some grainy, bass filled chaos assaulting her eardrums as she saw him switch CDs, moving to the beat as he drained a beer bottle of its contents and added it to the pile. To her right Ghost and Scarecrow were still playing some ridiculous drinking game with the other men, one that currently involved Scarecrow attempting to stand on one leg, all the men hollering when he lost his balance and slipped clumsily to the floor. The loud jeers assaulted her eardrums and Lara scrunched up her features, choosing to take another, larger sip of Roach's hideous drink as if it might help matters.

She'd planned on going back to see what state Meat was in now, when something had caught her eye, causing her to stand stock still and tilt her head curiously. Over in the kitchen area Archer and some of the others will still smoking, laughing and altogether arsing about, but amongst them was a face that wasn't smiling, a face that was simply staring out into the distance passively, as if their mind was no longer in the room.  _Mactavish._ Lara squinted, focusing her vision as the Captain nudged Archer beside him, speaking into his ear. The next thing she knew he was headed out of the rec room and into the corridor.

McCoy had two clear options. She could be sensible, ignore the whole thing and go back to Roach or she could follow Mactavish and probably end up getting her head bitten off angrily.

In the end she opted for the latter, striding out of the rec room and outside the barracks.

Outside the air was cold, clinging to the bare skin of her arms and making her wish that she had opted to wear more than her t shirt. There was a full moon hanging in the sky, its light making shadows out of whatever wisps of cloud remained, a dull grey shine interspersed with the artificial yellow glow of the base's few outdoor lamps. For a moment, McCoy couldn't see Mactavish anywhere, until she caught sight of his shadow, the man himself leant against the barracks wall, cigarette glowing amber in his hand. He was looking in her direction, obviously having spotted her the second she'd left the barracks.

"Sir?" Now that she'd followed him Lara realised she didn't actually know what to say, so instead she stepped closer to him, a curious eyebrow raised. She watched him smile almost bitterly in the gloom, silently sucking in another drag from his cigarette. "Is there…something wrong?"

"Go back inside, McCoy." The Captain shook his head quickly. "I'll follow you in a minute."

"That didn't answer my question." Lara decided that persistence was the best option and she moved to his side, her face knowing. "What's wrong?"

"I told you to go back inside."

"And I'm not listening." Alcohol had always given her a false sense of confidence and courage, and McCoy intended to use it to the full. "I saw you in there, sir."

"You saw me, huh?" Soap laughed quickly. "And just what exactly did you see?"

"You were distant…thinking. I don't know. That's why I followed you." She rolled her eyes. "You don't have to make it so fucking difficult..."

"I'm not used to people asking." Soap shrugged, taking a deep drag that almost halved the size of his cigarette. "Sorry."

"Then do I get an answer?"

"I don't think you really want one." The Captain shook his head.

"Then you really don't know me…" Lara rolled her eyes. "Just fucking  _tell_  me…"

"You really want to know? Fine…the last time we did this, was about two months ago. Roach's birthday…most of us didn't remember a thing in the morning." The Captain laughed softly. "By the looks of it most of us won't remember tonight either." He took a final drag, throwing the cigarette to the floor and grinding it beneath the toe of his boot. "I remember Meat tying Roach up to one of the showers and leaving it on…the two of them aren't happy unless they're dicking around with each other. Chemo found Roach and cut him down, he spent the rest of the night watching out for him too. 'Cos that was just the guy Jimmy was…he actually gave a shit." The Captain sighed, resting his head against the brick of the wall and closing his eyes. "He was a fucking  _good_  man."

"It's ok to miss him…" Lara replied softly, leaning against the wall in order to steady herself more than anything else.

"That's just it…I don't  _just_  miss him." Soap shook his head, his eyes looking upward instead of at her. "…I  _killed_  him."

"What?"

"I had the chance to save him…but I didn't take it. I  _couldn't_  take it…So I just watched him take the bullet instead."

"That wasn't your fault…"

"Wasn't it?" The Captain let out a bitter laugh. "I still decided who lived and who died, right? Makes me as guilty as if I had pulled the trigger myself."

"You're our CO…"

"Exactly…Who says I can make these fucking decisions?  _Shepherd_?" He rolled his eyes. "I'm guilty…whether I like it or not."

"It's a part of our job…" Lara sighed, blinking hard. "No one said command would be easy…but it's necessary."

"You sound like Shepherd."

"Maybe this time he's right."

"Or you just don't know what you're talking about…" Soap visibly grimaced. "I've been doing this a long time…I've lost a lot of  _good_ men."

"And I haven't?" It came out more pained than she had anticipated and for the first time Lara was unable to look the Captain in the eye. "I couldn't save my best friend, but he's added to a long list of people where I've been too late, been too underequipped or too far for a casevac." She relaxed her shoulders, her eyes focused on the ground. "It feels shit. The guilt is ridiculous…makes you feel like you should have taken their place a hundred times over if you could. You watch them die and yet somehow  _you_ always live." Lifting her head, Lara finally managed to meet his gaze, the Captain looking at her with astonished eyes. "…I'm right, aren't I?"

"I had no idea…"

"I'm a medic…" Lara laughed softly, trying to throw off the dark, tension filled silence around them. "I've seen my fair share." She gave him a quick smile, a sharp shiver forcing its way down her spine as she suddenly became aware of the cold again. "Let's go inside…it's fucking freezing out here."

She assumed he'd follow her, turning around and taking a few steps forward towards the door, her mind fixed on warm surroundings, more alcohol and deep, pounding dance music to focus her mind on happier things. But when a hand caught her wrist, Lara's every thought seemed to stop, her mind completely focused on the strange, unexplained action.

" _Wait_ …" There was a soft tug on her arm, not aggressive but definitely dominant and Lara turned round slowly, confusion blazing in her eyes. Mactavish was much closer than she remembered and she moved to take a step back, but the grip on her wrist held her there, blue eyes scrutinising her face slowly and decisively.

"Sir…I…" She was trying to formulate a question but the grasp was so irregular that it had caught her completely off guard, her mind drawing a complete blank. She tested Soap's grip on her hand and felt it grow tighter. "I-…"

"I'm sorry…" Soap said slowly, a weak smile passing across his features. He watched her for a second longer; his face suddenly so close that she could feel it against her skin, the smell of smoke strong in her nostrils. Lara opened her mouth to speak, but before any sound actually left her lips Mactavish made his move.

His lips were there, pushing against hers in a move that would have been gentle if they both weren't drunk, his mouth that little bit more clumsy and uncontrolled. His lips moved against hers dominantly and for a split second the shock of actually being  _kissed_  made Lara forget to react, her hands hanging loosely by her sides, her lips still and lifeless.  _It just didn't feel real._  Or not until a large hand snaked round her waist, resting on the base of her back and pushing her forwards. The sudden intimate contact was enough to make Lara press her mouth back against his with the same kind of urgency and pressure.

She hadn't realised that she was being pushed backwards until her back met the cold, brick wall, Soap's warm body suddenly pressed to her front. His hands seemed to be everywhere, running up and down her arms and through her hair whilst Lara opted for the safer option of looping hers around his neck, pulling him closer. His tongue pressed against his lips and Lara opened her mouth a little, deepening the kiss but allowing Mactavish the dominance that she thought that he needed. The action alone sent a soft shudder down her spine and she risked moving her hands a little more, running them across the thin fabric that covered his torso, her mind ever mindful of his injured thigh that was by now so close to hers. The added movement seemed to encourage Soap further and his hand slid down to her shoulder, before slowly moving down onto her chest, cupping her almost roughly through her t shirt, sending a soft groan rocketing through her mouth.

He was her superior, but right then Lara didn't give a damn, Soap's head ducking down and kissing an eager trail down her neck, his teeth biting in seemingly all the right places. Alcohol and lust had formed a heady concoction in her mind and as another gasp left her mouth the only thing truly dwelling on Lara's thoughts was the need for something  _more_ , her hands almost frantically grabbing at the Captain's chest. Teeth once again grazed against the skin of her neck and Lara's entire body tensed, her head falling back against the wall to expose more of her neck to Soap's attentions.

Almost cruelly, the body in front of her froze. She fidgeted a little in his grasp, tried to inch closer and kiss him again, but Soap pulled away, stepping backwards and looking at her almost guiltily. The sudden change of pace left Lara's head spinning with disorientation.

" _Shit…_ "

"What's wrong?" Lara looked at him confused, her mouth hanging slightly open. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No…I just…" Mactavish shook his head quickly. "That was a bad idea."

"It didn't feel like one."

"It should never have happened." The Captain took another step back as if to prove his point. "I  _shouldn't_  have done that…"

"But you did…"

"I'm your CO." Soap shook his head quickly. "And this is wrong. So fucking  _wrong_."

"And you really mean that?" Lara gave him a sceptical look, pushing off from the wall towards him.

"Will you stop?" Mactavish took another step backwards, his features almost angry. "I don't know what you think that was…"

"What was it supposed to be?"

"That's the point… _nothing_." The Captain blinked at her, his tone blunt. "I'm pissed, alright? And you're just-…"

"I'm just what? The only woman for miles?" Lara scoffed.

"… _Available._ " Soap shrugged, rolling his eyes. "It didn't mean anything more than that." He took a few more steps backwards. "It can never happen again."

"You were the one who kissed me…"

"I  _know_." Mactavish shook his head quickly. "And I swear I won't do it again." He moved to the door and opened it quickly, turning back just long enough to glare at her. "It was a  _mistake_ …ok?"

A  _mistake._  The word was sour in Lara's thoughts and she leant back against the wall again, her eyes closed, fists so tightly clenched that her fingernails bit into her palms. In two minutes she'd gone from being practically euphoric to being made to feel used and discarded, all by the first man she'd had even the remotest attraction to in well over a year and a half. It was a sickening blow to take, one that left her feeling hurt and empty, the alcohol in her system making her muscles rage, her fists beating against the wall behind her. She was shivering, but she didn't know where the cold started and the anger began, her hazy mind unable to compute the confusion that was assaulting her senses. For a good few minutes she merely stood there, attempting to calm down and take stock of the situation, her eyes closed tightly. Only when the cold attacking her body got too unbearable did she actually allow herself back inside.

The rec room felt surreal after her absence, loud noise and heat assaulting her the second she walked in. Aside from Mactavish being decisively absent the room was the same scene that he had left albeit a little more raucous, Meat and Roach engrossed in some kind of heated, drunken debate whilst Archer passed around a disgusting smelling concoction for the others to try. Lara hastily declined, reaching for the pint she had left and downing a quarter of it, no longer caring if the alcohol scorched at her throat. The effects felt almost instantaneous and she staggered slightly, lifting the pint to her lips and forcing her throat to swallow more of the bitter liquid.

She was already humiliated. Horrendously so. As she drank further, Lara allowed herself a small smile. How could things get any worse?


	7. Water and Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

He had hoped that a shower would do what ever it was supposed to at that point. Maybe sober him up; maybe make him come to his senses. All Soap knew was that he needed it to do  _something._

He leant back against the shower wall, the freezing tiles sending iced shockwaves through his system. He was at the other end of the barracks and he could still hear the faint rumble of the music in the rec room, a steady beat sounding through the walls. Soap groaned and closed his eyes, steadying his balance with his right hand as he unceremoniously shoved his head back under the cascade of water. At least the loud rush over his ears helped soothe his disorientation.

_He'd been so fucking stupid._

It hadn't taken him more than a minute to regret what he had said to Lara completely. Only some of it was truth. Sure, kissing her had been an error in his judgement, but that by no means meant that he hadn't  _wanted_  to.

In fact he just hoped that Lara hadn't been aware of just how  _much_  he'd wanted her.

He'd just noticed that she was pretty at first. Not conventionally pretty with the seemingly classic combination of plumped red lips and a curvy figure, but she still possessed a charm which was hardly unattractive. The feeling of attraction had grown stronger after he was shot which had hardly been surprising. She'd saved his life and he was lonely, it was pure logic for him to feel something then, however small. As a result he had instantly shrugged any feelings for her off as being inconsequential, irrelevant. Which they still were. No matter how he felt with regards to his medic, he was a Captain first and foremost. Everything else came second. It always had.

Groaning, Soap let his head fall back against the tiles, not really caring when a sharp pain greeted him, shooting straight forwards into his eye sockets. He reached to turn off the shower, stumbling slightly on the slippery floor as he reached for his towel, wrapping the fabric tight around his hips. He guessed everyone else was still in the rec room, but there was always the chance that he might stumble across Meat handcuffed to a urinal. That really would make his evening complete.

He didn't bother dressing, locking his door quickly and collapsing down on the bed, the world swimming in and out of focus around him. He closed his eyes, the dark soothing his headache but doing nothing for the guilt that was underlying within his system. He'd hurt her,  _deliberately_ , because that had been the only way his drunken mind knew of getting her to stop following him. And even if he knew what he had said to her wasn't true, there was no changing the fact that Lara herself thought much differently…

* * *

It she wasn't drunk she would have found it surreal.

Fortunately she was intoxicated enough for the sight of Meat and Roach in a push up competition to not faze her and Lara tipped back her head, draining the pint glass of the last drop of its sour liquid. Straightening up she let out a quick laugh as Meat collapsed to the floor first, on his face an almost constant grimace.

"You owe twenty quid, mate…" Rook laughed quickly, patting Meat on the back as he stepped past him with another beer. "Better luck next time."

"…Fuck…" The linguist sat up slowly, seemingly oblivious to the world around him as he cradled his head. He paused pensively for a moment before making a sudden move to stand up. "…I'm gonna be sick…" His hand clasped to his mouth, he ran from the room as quickly as his drunken legs were able to carry him. Lara let out another laugh, bringing her knees up so that she was sat crossed legged on the sofa. In front of her Roach stood up slowly, an ever present grin on his features.

"How are you doing?"

"Fucking  _amazing_ …" There was no hiding the slight slur and the sarcasm in her voice. She nodded to the floor where he had just been laid. "That was…very impressive."

"You think so?" The smile on Roach's face grew wider. "Didn't know you were watching…I'd have tried harder."

"Don't tell Meat that."

"Shit… _Meat_ …" Gary smirked, taking a few steps towards the door. "I better go after him."

"You going to take care of him?"

"You're kidding right?" The sergeant laughed quickly. "I'm taking a picture…he's  _not_ going to forget this…"

People were starting to disappear from the rec room, but the majority of the guys she still recognised. Archer, Scarecrow and Ghost were playing cards, sat on the floor in a semi circle and by the look on the lieutenant's face he was losing badly, throwing some coins across to Archer with extreme distaste. To her right Royce was busy having a loud and highly exaggerated conversation with Rook, one that Lara couldn't quite make out the intricacies of aside from the fact that it involved a lot of waving of arms and hands. It was definitely a conversation that the quiet Australian was losing either way. She smiled to herself, hands reaching for the bottle of vodka lying on the floor beside her. What remained of her logic told her that she shouldn't drink anymore, but the more emotive, stronger part of her brain encouraged her and she unscrewed the bottle, decanting a large measure of clear liquid into her glass. After all, the worst she could do would be to forget, and right then that felt more like a mercy than a punishment…

"You should slow down there…" A slightly slurred, cockney accent caused her to look up quickly, Ghost looming over her, his movements slightly unsteady. He raised an eyebrow and indicated to the half empty bottle. "That was full."

"Stalking me much?" Lara rolled her eyes, taking an almost defiant swig of the neat alcohol and fighting her body's instinct to wretch. "I can take care of myself."

"If you say so." Without any further indication, the lieutenant suddenly sat down beside her, his body dropping down almost lazily, throwing the cushion she was sat on upwards.

"What are you doing?"

"Sitting down." Riley glanced at her, tilting his own beer bottle up to his lips. "Archer wiped me out and you were looking miserable."

"Miserable?" She raised an eyebrow, self consciously edging away from him on the sofa. "You were watching me?"

"Don't flatter yourself." The lieutenant laughed around his beer. "I wasn't checking you out."

" _Good_."

"Good." Riley nodded and for at least a minute they both sat apart, staring ahead into space and taking frequent sips of their respective drinks. However uncomfortable she might have felt, Lara was determined not to be the first to give in and break the awkward silence. "You seen Mactavish?"

"He went for a smoke." She shrugged passively.

"I know that…but you went with 'im." Riley laughed quickly. A wicked smile spread across his features. "Turn you down did he?"

"Don't be such a twat." Lara scoffed, although she hoped that the slight rush of red to her cheeks was subtle enough to be blamed on her alcohol intake. When she risked a glance to Ghost she realised he was staring at her expectantly and she let out a wearied sigh. "I went out for a smoke too… _alright_?"

"Really?" The lieutenant laughed. "You're a doctor…talk about practice what you preach…"

" _Fuck you_ …"

"Touch a nerve did I?" He cocked an eyebrow. "You realise its still killing you…right?"

"And this job isn't?" Her tone was more serious than she would have liked, but at least it served to shut him up. "Why do you suddenly care anyway?"

"Don't know…" Ghost shrugged, his voice blunt. "Maybe I don't, or maybe it's just a bit of boredom."

"You're a real charmer, aren't you, Simon?"

"With people I actually wanna charm…yeah." The lieutenant shrugged. "Sorry…but I'm not  _that_  desperate to resort to you yet."

"Thank fuck for that." Lara rolled her eyes, hauling herself upwards out of her seat. The world span again and she staggered, but she tried her hardest to act as if she hadn't.

"Steady, love…" Ghost smirked, his voice the definition of patronising.

"Screw you."

"Where do you think you're going anyway?" The lieutenant lifted a curious eyebrow.

"Right now?" Lara gave him her best sarcastic smile. "Anywhere you  _aren't_ …"

It would have been an impressive put down if she hadn't staggered again, Ghost's laugh just audible behind her. Lara rolled her eyes. The man was intolerable and she still didn't  _hate_  him, no matter however many times he put her down or demeaned her in front of the others. Lara internally kicked herself. She hated that Simon Riley was one of the few people she allowed to push her around.

She needed a distraction so that she wasn't just aimlessly walking around the room, so she headed for Toad who had taken over as DJ when Royce had seemingly got bored and walked off. The shift had been obvious. Gone was the poppy, dance music interspersed with the occasional piece of eurotrash, replaced by something a little more edgy and dangerous, relentless rhythm sections broken apart by a pounding bassline. With her dulled senses, Lara was sure that the music was made even more intoxicating as it rumbled through her ears.

"What are you playing?" She raised her voice over the sound, smiling to Toad across the music player.

"Drum and bass." He laughed softly, indicating around the room to the other men who weren't paying a blind bit of attention. "Thought everyone was too drunk to notice."

"It's good…" She nodded quickly, watching as he twisted a few of the dials on the player knowledgeably. "You look like you know what you're doing."

"I used to DJ…didn't pay well, but you never lose it." He smirked quickly, running his hand through his spiked, black hair. "Besides…Royce had the balance all wrong…sounded like fucking  _shit_."

"How can you tell?"

"How can you  _not_ tell?" Toad laughed. "That tinny…almost high pitched sound?" He demonstrated on the subwoofer. "Means the treble is too high."

"Is that all?" She raised a sarcastic eyebrow.

"It's a start." Toad rolled his eyes, indicating for her to stand next to him. When she'd moved to his side he handed her his MP3 player, stepping past her. "Look after this for me, will you?"

"What?"

"Just make sure the music doesn't stop." He grinned. "Archer owes me half his weight in whisky and I want to cash in."

There was something nice about having no inhibitions. The music was steady, the rhythm fast yet predictable and at first she'd just bobbed along to it, her body swaying to the softer sections, glass of vodka still in hand. She'd sip at it in between movements, the alcohol no longer burning, now more soothing, tearing away her humiliation and anger in equal measure. Suddenly, lost within a haze of isolation, blurred vision and soft female vocals, she'd managed to forget all about Mactavish. Or so she liked to kid herself.

" _Water and fire,_

_Love and desire…"_

Lara laughed to herself softly. The song almost made her believe that the two were complete opposites.

The music became heavier, slower, the bass suddenly feeling as if it was drilling through the air around her and Lara suddenly became aware that she was almost alone at one side of the rec room, Rook and Royce wandering off with some of the other men. At the far end of the room were the last remaining "survivors", Archer, Toad and Scarecrow but they had their backs to her, plumes of smoke from Archer's incessant cigarettes forming a constant cloud around their heads. Ghost was nowhere to be seen. Lara felt a small smirk of amusement scar her features and she ground her hips to the drop in the bassline. She'd won a small, immature victory by outlasting him.

_Or so she thought._

At any other time if a hand had suddenly appeared on her hip she would have twirled round and broke its owner's nose without a second thought. This time however, she didn't, instead only freezing in her movements. She knew that the hang could belong to only one of two people, and since she hadn't seen Mactavish re-enter the rec room, she was pretty sure as to who it was.

"What do you think you're doing?" She asked calmly, determined to hide even a hint of shock from her voice.

"I don't know." Riley replied behind her, his voice as blunt as usual. His left hand twisted round and took the glass out of her hand. "Want me to stop?"

"You said you weren't this desperate…" She attempted to take a step forward, but her curiosity ensured that she wasn't completely committed to the action.

"Maybe I lied." Ghost's left hand suddenly found its way down to her other hip. "You're not supposed to believe all the front I give you…" Warm breath flickered across her neck as he leaned in close to her ear.

"And who says _I'm_  that desperate?"

"No one…" The laugh that left the lieutenant's mouth sent an involuntary shiver running down her spine. "Like I said…want me to stop?"

She'd planned to tell him to fuck off then and there, but suddenly his hips rocked forwards and he moved against her back, half dancing, half grinding. Another reluctant shudder took hold and Lara automatically pushed back against him. He moved again and she wriggled, feeling as if she should pull away. After all, they were hardly somewhere private. All it would take was for one of the men in the kitchen to turn around and see them there, caught in some drunken, unprofessional state that couldn't be called dancing, but couldn't be described as anything else either. The hips behind her moved again, more prominent this time and Lara's entire body clenched up within Ghost's grasp. The fear of being discovered like this was almost intolerable. But there was no denying the fact that she was getting off on it too…

"I'll take that as a no." There was another tickle of breath against her skin, which was soon replaced by the sensation of teeth slowly raking across her neck. Lara allowed a small gasp to escape her lips. She knew she was fighting a losing battle.

"This is insane…" Her words might have meant it, but her body made no attempt to move away from him. "… _Wrong_."

" _And?_ " Ghost laughed against her skin. "You  _like_  breaking rules don't you?" He pulled her hips back against his.

" _Mactavish_ …" The word spilled from her lips before she could stop it and Lara regretted it instantly. Whether she was more worried that the Captain would be against this professionally or emotionally however remained to be seen.

"I'm not gonna tell…" This time a kiss was pressed to the sensitive area of her neck, accompanied by another rhythmic grind of his hips. "But they might…" A breathy laugh tickled against the now damp skin. "How about we go outside?"

"I don't think-"

"You don't think what?" The well aimed suck just below her ear sent electric shivers down her spine, her hands suddenly gripping at Ghost's wrists when he spoke again. "Come on, Bones… _live a little_."

It was the worst idea in the world, but that didn't stop her from walking out of the rec room like he suggested. It didn't stop her from waiting patiently outside the barracks for him to follow her, didn't stop the smile of anticipation that crept through her features as he stepped towards her. She was quite possibly about to make the biggest mistake of her career, but by then it didn't matter when her hands reached out and pulled him into deep kiss. Because if she was sure of just one thing, Lara knew that if she was going to do this, she was going to do it on her own terms.

She expected him to struggle and he didn't disappoint her, his strength and weight advantage able to push her against the wall with relative ease. But that didn't mean she was going to give in. Whilst he was distracted in trying to dominate the kiss, deepening it almost forcefully, Lara set about distracting him in the only way she could think of, running her hands up the inside of his t shirt and dragging her nails across his skin, enough to mark but not to draw blood. She smirked as the action was rewarded by a groan, Ghost tilting his head further into the kiss. He made no attempt to stop her, instead retaliating with his own hand creeping up her top, his thumb flicking knowingly across the fabric of her bra. Lara felt another gasp leave her mouth and for a second she froze, eyes closed and for the second time that night pressing her head against the brick wall behind her. Lips were once again moving down her throat, a free hand tugging and stretching at the neck of her t shirt to give him more room to work, but unlike with Mactavish the kisses were far more forceful, more primal and hungry, some of the bites nearing on painful. Lara moaned into the open air.  _Mactavish_. Once again the Captain had invaded her thoughts and she fought to push him away, keeping her eyes closed and focusing all of her attentions on what Ghost was doing beneath her t-shirt.

It was all suddenly too slow, too teasing and Lara moved her head, grabbing Ghost's face with her left hand and pulling it into another kiss, their lips colliding with more force than either of them planned. The kiss that followed was clumsy, frantic with them both vying for control. The hands against her chest were beginning to drive her insane, the haze of her thoughts focused on progressing things as far, and as quickly as possible. Slowly yet purposefully, her hand found the front of Ghost's jeans, and the lieutenant's body instantly tensed, the brief friction bringing him back to reality with a resounding crash.

"Your room.  _Now_." Were his only words.

This was it. The brief lull before she got in to deep, the calm before the storm where her thoughts were allowed to clear. As they walked across towards the infirmary, Lara knew that she should back out, should stop this while she could. And yet she stayed silent. It was wrong, immeasurably so, but so had been her kiss with Mactavish, the image still managing to creep in front of her thoughts. In the space of barely ten minutes, he'd made her feel so small, so insignificant and inferior. She'd felt used, mistreated and abandoned. And yet suddenly, Ghost was changing that. She didn't kid herself for a moment that Riley cared about her in the slightest, but in some ways that was the beauty of it. This way she could regain some of her lost pride safe in the knowledge that there were no emotional strings attached.

Being alone in her room was like a catalyst, Ghost not even bothering to lock the door before he pulled her into another kiss, this one as dominating and lust crazed at the ones that had preceded it. It didn't take long for him to lose his t-shirt to the floor and Lara wasted a little time focusing her attentions on it, her back hunched as she glided her lips across his pectoral muscles, her nails dragging across the defined lines of his abdominals. Testing she bit down on his skin hard, forcing a growl from Ghost's lips, his movements suddenly dominant again as he pulled her so that she was stood up straight, impatient hands tugging at her t-shirt. It was soon lost too, as was her bra, before she found herself being pushed decisively towards her bed. When her calves hit the frame, she fell backwards and Riley wasted no time in settling himself on top of her.

There was the usual awkward wriggling out of their remaining clothes that she despised, Lara breaking the tension by reaching into her drawer and pulling out a condom, throwing it in his general direction. Hasty kisses littered her torso, but they both knew their foreplay had been in the rec room, Ghost's hand resting between her legs almost out of a seemingly misplaced politeness than anything else. She squirmed and encouraged him further, an offer that he almost instantly took up.

What proceeded was purely animalistic lust and desire, something that felt so alien, so out of character and as a result almost  _exotic_. They didn't try to connect with each other or communicate, which suited Lara fine as she let Ghost dictate his own pace, simply content to revel in the waves of electricity that seemed to spark through every muscle her body possessed. It had been so long that she almost felt as if she'd forgotten she  _could_  feel like this, her back arched, eyes firmly closed as she finally let go completely, Riley's name the first and only thing that spilled from her lips.

The silence at first was so heavy that it was almost tangible, Riley rolling off her and lying by her side, flat on his back with one arm splayed out above him. Beads of sweat glistened on his chest, his skin grey in the minimal light of the room. For a few minutes there was only breathing, both their chests moving out of synch.

" _Fuck_ …" When he did finally speak, it was almost a pained groan, his left hand rubbing at his eyes. He glanced across to Lara, almost as if he was checking that she was still there beside him. "That was-"

"Stop it." She shook her head quickly, shifting uncomfortably on the bed and tucking the sheets underneath her arms. "I'm not looking for compliments."

" _Alright…_ " He rolled his eyes dismissively, although a smirk spread across his features. "For all you knew I could have been about to tell you how shit you were."

"Really?" She raised a sceptical answer. "Then fuck you."

"You just did."

"How old are you?" She sighed. "Fucking grow up."

"Are you always this grumpy?" Riley laughed to himself quickly. "Or do I just bring it out of you?"

"If you mean that you have a special way of making my life miserable…then yes,  _you do_." Lara turned her head away from him so she was back to staring at the ceiling.

"I might be pissed but even I know  _that_  wasn't miserable…"

"Yeah…  _well_ …" In reality she couldn't think of a better counter argument and her words tailed off almost immediately.

"Hard to please, aren't you?" By now Riley was sitting up, fishing his boxers out from the tangle of bed sheets and pulling them on quickly. As he rummaged around in the dark, Lara leant on her side, propping herself up with her elbow as she watched him curiously.

"You're leaving?"

"What did you expect?" He pulled the denim up to his hips but didn't fasten his jeans at the button, causing the fabric to hang off his hips. Lara hated how she instantly noticed this, a deep pang of attraction hitting her hard in the stomach. "I don't think either of us are the cuddling type." He grinned, stumbling slightly when he found his t-shirt, before pulling it on. "Unless you want round two…"

"I  _want_ to sleep." She shook her head quickly. "I'm going to feel like shit as it is."

"Me too, but fuck it." He laughed. "Though if you fancy this again, you'll just have to let me know."

"This is a  _one_ time thing, Riley."

"Course it is." The lieutenant grinned. "Try telling me that the next time you're high off adrenaline after an op."

"I'm not like that."

"You're soldier, you get off on it." He shook his head dismissively. "Don't worry…I'm not going to tell the base you're an easy lay."

"If you do…-"

"I  _won't_ …my job's keeping quiet right?" She was greeted with another crooked grin as he stepped backwards towards the door. "Like I said, our little secret, yeah?"

"This  _isn't_  happening again."

"We'll see." Riley smirked quickly, opening her bedroom door. For a second he hovered in the doorway, the same, smug grin remaining on his features. "Oh and Bones?"

"What?"

"This doesn't mean I like you." He gave her a quick, self satisfied nod, and then disappeared before she could reply.

Alone in the darkness, Lara collapsed back against her pillows, her hands drawing the sheets up so that they covered her face. Minutes ago there had been so much lust flowing through her system that there had been little room for anything else, logic, regret and reason all pushed aside to the very edges of her thoughts. But now the lust was gone and almost like a river bursting its banks, all that reason and regret had come flooding back into her mind, washing over her every thought. A sharp, stinging, almost biting pain began to throb behind her eyes, and a low level of nausea sat heavy in her stomach, precursors to the hangover that she knew would await her when she woke up. Strangely, the physical effects of the alcohol bothered her the least, after all she could fix them relatively easy with copious amounts of water and pain killers. It was the emotional, the mental fallout of that evening that she worried about the most. After all, Ghost might not have given a damn, but now she was thinking that little more clearly she sure as hell did. And even worse, there was no 'quick fix' for that…


	8. As Dust Falls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

The nicotine provided him with a brief feeling of clarity.

It was freezing cold, dark and completely silent outside the base but Roach liked it. The iced air cut through his haze and forced his mind to focus, the quiet a pleasant contrast to the night's raucous events. As he took in another deep breath from his cigarette he felt it flare warmly between his fingers, the orange glow bright and smouldering. The smoke hit the back of his throat and he savoured it.

_4.07am…_

The quick glance to his watch left Roach with a dilemma as he flicked away his fag end. His eyes immediately fell on the Infirmary directly in front of him and a soft smile spread across his features subconsciously. The last time he'd seen her, Lara had been in a pretty bad way, her eyes barely even focusing on him. The sergeant laughed quickly to himself. He should probably check that she'd made it back to her bed ok.

He'd just reached the doors to the Infirmary when a noise caused him to stop, a voice, distinctly male, from inside the walls. Gary froze, raising an eyebrow and listening out further. He moved a few steps forward, concern written on his features. Suddenly visions of a horrendously drunken Meat pestering Lara flooded his thoughts.

" _This doesn't mean I like you."_

The voice was definitely not American, footsteps marking the figure's approach. On instinct Roach moved quickly, ducking into an alcove on the outside of the Infirmary walls, his drunken legs stumbling with the sudden action. The door beside him opened, a familiar figure swaggering out into the night. Roach only caught sight of his face once, but it was more than enough.

 _Ghost._  As he watched him jog back to the barracks, Roach couldn't stop himself blinking in silent shock. He wasn't stupid and the realisation was the first thought to assault his mind, an almost angry shudder passing through his body. The look on Riley's face had told him everything.

He'd been  _smiling._

Roach stayed there for a few minutes, slowly processing what he'd seen. His stomach was twisting in his abdomen, his mind reeling. He felt betrayed, even if he had no reason to be. He was caught between checking on Lara and chasing Ghost down so that he could wipe that self satisfied smile straight off his features.

Instead, he chose neither option, retreating back to the relative safety of his bed. He'd have to wait until morning…

* * *

"Here…it'll settle your stomach…" Lara nodded slowly, ever mindful of the splitting headache that was raging through her own skull. She held the tumbler of water out to Meat slowly, a large white pill fizzing at the base, turning the liquid cloudy.

"Urgh…" The linguist sniffed at it suspiciously, his nose wrinkled. He took a sip, giving her a pathetic look. "Don't you have anything stronger?"

"How strong?"

"Something that will just kill me…" He rolled his eyes, slouching in his chair.

"That's what guns are for, Greg."

"Oh…you're so  _fucking_  funny." Meat muttered.

"Thanks." She gave him a false smile, sitting down behind her desk gently, as if every movement she made her feel ten times worse. Rubbing her temple with her right hand she pushed a packet of extra strength pain killers across the desk to him. "Here…"

"That's all I get?"

"You're hung over…not on death's door." She shook her head, instantly wincing at the action and cradling her temple again. "If you're just going to bitch then can you  _not_ do it in my office?" Her face was almost pleading. "You're not the only one who feels like shit."

"You'll win no awards for your bedside manner…" Meat groaned, standing up slowly. "I'd get more sympathy from Shepherd…"

She didn't have the patience to argue with him further, choosing instead to just wave her hand dismissively as he left, her eyes downward and fixed to her desk. The pain behind them felt immense, sharp and stinging, only just beginning to be dulled by the pints of water that she had forced down her neck previously. She squinted hard through the pain and tried to focus on the new medical protocols lying forgotten on her desk, but her brain almost felt as if it was stumbling over each and every word. She sighed heavily, regretting every single shot of vodka that she had allowed to slip down her throat all at once.

In reality, it wasn't just the hangover that was making her feel so low. She'd hated herself the second she'd opened her eyes, light penetrating her vision and igniting her retinas. She'd remembered instantly, hell she still had the marks to prove it, purple circles dotted across her shoulders, a darkening bruise gracing her thigh. There was no escaping what she'd done, no matter how much she wanted to.  _Ghost._  His lop sided, glinting grin suddenly flashed through her head, followed by similar memories of her hands gliding through his longer than regulation dirty blonde hair, her nails dragging across his abdominals whilst his lips slid along her collarbone feverishly. A shudder ran down Lara's spine and she blinked hard, focusing back on the documents in front of her as if they might somehow make her forget. But it was hopeless. No matter how drunk they'd both been she had  _still_  done it, and in the process broken one of her strictest rules with regards to her work, something that appalled her. Yet what disgusted her even further was the part of her, no matter how small, that still relished the memory…

Maybe Ghost was right after all. Maybe she  _did_ like breaking rules.

"Lara?" There was a loud knock at her door and Bones instinctively grimaced, watching it open intently. For a second she thought it was Mactavish or even Ghost, but when Roach stepped into the room she felt relief wash over her in waves, not bothering to stop the smile breaking out across her features.

"Thank fuck…" She laughed softly. "Close the door will you? I'm bored of medicating hangovers." He did as she said and moved forwards, sitting down in the chair in front of her, his hands knotting in his lap. It was only when he looked up at her that she noticed he had barely said a word. "Umm…Gary?"

"Yeah?" He looked startled, as if he'd been lost in thought.

"What can I do for you?"

"Just thought I'd see how you were…" He shrugged softly. "You were pretty out of it last night, right?"

"I was on my way…yeah." She laughed quickly. "Didn't embarrass myself too much though did I?"

"Not that I saw anyway…" Roach gave her an unnerving, almost knowing look and Lara shifted slightly under his gaze. "I wasn't with you the whole time."

"You were busy making Meat's life hell…"

"Not all the time." He shrugged quickly. " _You_  kept disappearing."

"I didn't realise you were  _babysitting_  me." She gave him an annoyed look. "Gary…what's wrong?"

"Where did you go? Last night?"

"When?" Her heart thudded in her chest, her mind wrong footed. She hadn't expected that she'd need an alibi so quickly, if at all.

"After I went out to find Meat."

"It was getting late…" Lara shook her head passively. "I hung around for a bit. Talked to Toad. Then I just went to bed. Not that I  _need_  to tell you any of this."

"You _just_  went to bed?"

"Yeah…" Lara lied almost without realising.

"You're sure?"

"Gary! Why would I lie to you?"

"I don't know…" Roach sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, his brown eyes suddenly a strange mixture of confusion and frustration. "Why would you?" He laughed quickly. "Maybe I should just go ask Ghost instead."

The words stopped Lara dead in her tracks and she swallowed hard, staring at him blankly.

"What?"

"I saw him…last night."

"What the hell did he tell you?" There was a twisted, angry quality to her voice and Lara's grip tightened on the edge of her desk subconsciously.

"He'd didn't  _tell_  me anything…but I'm not stupid, Lara." The sergeant rolled his eyes. "Not like you…"

"I'm not-"

"Fucking our XO?" Roach scoffed, interrupting her before she could say anymore. "How much more  _stupid_  can you get?"

"I'm not… _fucking_  him."

"Then what were you doing? Playing cards?" He smirked darkly. "I told you…I'm  _not_  stupid."

"I slept with him  _once_ …"

"And that's better? You think he's going to start showing you respect now?" Gary shook his head. "You just lowered yourself to his level."

"I don't expect anything from him…I don't  _want_  anything from him."

"You did last night…"

"For fuck's sake, Gary!" Lara couldn't help the yell in her voice, frustration raging through her like a storm. She hated being wrong at the best of times, especially when she was cornered by her mistakes. "What gives you the right to tell me what I can and can't do?"

"I'm your friend…"

"Exactly. You're not my mother…and you're definitely not my superior."

"No…because then you'd be trying to fuck me too? Right?"

"That's not fair."

"Does it matter?" Roach rolled his eyes, an almost hurtful smirk smearing across his face. "So what was it then? The way he ignores you? Or maybe it was all those insults that you get off on…"

"He was… _convenient_." Lara said softly, almost ashamed. She paused, tilting her head away from him and blinking hard, trying to regain some kind of grip on the situation. She failed. Suddenly anger seemed to be all that existed, self hatred at her own stupidity bubbling in her veins strengthened by the hurt inflicted by Roach's harsh words. When she spoke again her tone was sharp, barbed. "Just  _back off_. Ok, Gary?"

"The truth beginning to sting a little?"

" _Fuck off_. You have no right to talk to me like this…to talk to  _anyone_ like this!"

"So I'm not allowed to care now, is that it?"

"Since when is this  _caring_?" Lara scoffed, standing up quickly. "All you've done is fucking attack me."

"I wanted you to realise-"

"Realise what? My mistake? How naïve do you think I am?" She shrugged, her face indignant. "I'm not a child, Gary. I know what I've done."

"Then why  _him_? Why the one guy who just doesn't give a shit?"

"Why do you care?" Lara spat in return. "Really? What made you wake up this morning and decide to come and play so high and fucking mighty with me?"

"You're unbelievable." Gary rolled his eyes. "You  _honestly_  don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Screw it…" The sergeant stood slowly, taking a few soft steps backwards although he never turned his back on her. "If you don't know then I'm not going to spell it out for you."

"Gary…"

"Save it." He reached the doorway, finally turning so that he could open the door. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

"For fuck's sake…Gary!"

It was hopeless. Before she had managed to edge around her desk, Roach had already left, the door swinging ominously shut behind him, Lara's voice echoing through the now empty room. She closed her eyes, fists clenched as she tried to exhale out all of her frustration, her body suddenly feeling so tense and tight. Somehow they'd both spiralled out of control and in the process she'd ended up fighting with her closest friend on the base.

Sitting back down, Lara cradled her head in her hands. Now she really did have the hangover from hell…

* * *

She'd thought that things couldn't get any worse. But when she got a message telling her to see Mactavish in his office, McCoy quickly realised that they could.

Her hand had hovered outside the door, mere inches of air between her reluctant knuckles and the wood. She bit her lip and tried to knock again, but somehow the signal didn't seem to reach her wrist, an awkward blockage somewhere along her arm. She sighed. 12 hours ago she'd let the Captain stick his tongue down her throat, and now she could barely stand the thought of facing him…

There was a loud bout of laughter down the corridor, followed by an unmistakeable cockney accent. Lara's heart jumped and her hand made the decision for her. Facing Mactavish was bad enough, but seeing Ghost? That was even worse.

She quickly knocked and pushed her way into the Captain's office.

"…McCoy…" It was almost surreal seeing Soap in the daylight, his eyes lifting from his desk up to her as Lara closed the door. The same piercing blue quality was there, but this time the Captain's entire manner felt far more formal than it usually did, something that she guessed was a deliberate attempt to reassert what he had said the night before. "You're late."

"Sorry, sir. I got held up." A blatant lie. She'd just been putting off their meeting for as long as she physically could.

"Nice to see I'm high on your priorities." He raised an almost sarcastic eyebrow, motioning towards the empty seat in front of his desk. " _Sit down_ ; you're making my office look untidy."

"Sir."

"The 141 don't take time out for long." He sighed, although the tension in his shoulders didn't relax. "Shepherd has given me fresh orders."

"Orders? Another operation, sir?"

"Yeah… Sabotage, possibly another chance to take out codename alpha. But that's not the main objective. This time we've been assigned to cripple one of his suppliers."

"Is this from the intel we secured from the safehouse?"

"We secured nothing of value. I don't know where the intel has come from, and to be blunt it doesn't matter. If Shepherd's sending us in, he's sending us in." Mactavish rolled his eyes, running his tongue absent mindedly across his teeth. "You understand that because I'm telling you this, you're assigned to this operation?"

"I get the idea."

"Good." He nodded slowly. "I'm sending in the rest of Bravo team. An eight man patrol might be excessive for this operation, but I'm not taking any chances."

"Can I ask where we're headed, sir?"

"North – west Afghanistan." He noticed the obvious flinch in Lara's features. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I'll go wherever I'm sent."

"I appreciate that." Mactavish gave her a weak smile, but it's was so fleeting that she wasn't sure if she'd imagined it. His eyes moved away from her, flicking across his desk almost guiltily before they found her gaze again. "You know that I have to sit this one out, right?"

"I'd guessed as much, sir."

"As a result, right now you answer to Ghost. I'm making him temporary CO in the operation. Archer will act for all intents and purposes as his second in command."

" _Ghost?_ " In an instant Lara's day had descended into an all new kind of chaos.

"I know the two of you don't see eye to eye…" Soap paused, worrying his lip. "But I need you to put all that bullshit aside and do your jobs out there. I know he will but still…" Mactavish gave her a serious look. "I need  _you_  to promise me. It's bad enough me having to wait on the sidelines as it is."

"I promise you that we'll be nothing but professional." The irony of her words was not lost on her and Lara fidgeted idly in her seat, praying to any God that might have been listening for her cheeks to not flow an unattractive shade of crimson. Her feet shuffling against the carpet, McCoy gave Soap an expectant look, eager to make her escape. "Is that all, sir?"

"For now." He nodded quickly. "You're dismissed."

"Thank you, sir." She couldn't stand up quick enough, awkward hands jammed into the fabric of her combat trouser pockets, her legs making quick strides towards the door. Her hand had literally just come into contact with smooth metal when Soap's voice rang out again, suddenly sounding so unsure and unchecked in comparison to just seconds before.

"Lara. About last night…-"

"We shouldn't talk about it." McCoy shook her head quickly, the words leaving her mouth before she'd even realised. Her grip on the door handle tightened. This was just the kind of embarrassment she'd been trying to avoid.

"I don't want to talk about it." Mactavish shrugged, leaning back in his chair. He let out an almost sad laugh. "There's nothing  _to_ talk about."

"Then what are we doing?"

"…If I hurt you." The sudden admission shook Lara to her core; she shied away from him, turning her head. Mactavish speaking so openly was awkward in itself, and she hardly wanted to worsen matters further by showing him emotion. "I wasn't thinking. It was-"

"A mistake. I know." She attempted a passive shrug. "You said."

"But I didn't-"

"Sir…can we  _not_  do this?" Finally turning round to face him again, Lara had managed to force a smile across her features, trying her hardest to look as if there was nothing wrong in the slightest, even if her stomach was churning deep in her abdomen. "We were both pissed…weren't  _thinking_. We both said and did things we shouldn't. Can't we just leave it at that?"

"That's what you want?"

"It's what we _both_  want." She nodded softly. "With respect…let's not fuck things up further, sir."

"I like you." Soap nodded softly, Lara unsure as to whether or not there was a little more affection behind the words than she was used to. "Sometimes I swear you think like one of us."

"It's why I'm here isn't it? To be 'one of the boys'?"

"Maybe." He shrugged. "But I appreciate it all the same."

Confused no longer felt like it described the conflicting feelings of having too much and yet nothing left to say aptly enough, the barrage of contradictions in her brain making Lara frustrated beyond measure. She felt as if she had nowhere to turn, and even worse no one to talk to, Roach being the only man for miles that she'd ever truly confide in. The resulting loneliness was horrifically painful and isolating, so much so that it created a dominant pressure on her thoughts.

She needed to clear her head, and somehow training seemed to be the only option.

"Shit…" Toad had laughed when she'd stepped out onto the firing range beside him. He lowered his pistol, giving her a quizzical look. "I could have sworn that I'd be the only one out practicing today."

"Hate to disappoint you." She quipped in return, glancing down range at his targets, her hands still stuffed into her pockets. "This your hangover cure too?"

"Not really. At these parties I think its more fun to fuck with Archer." He grinned. "I make him think we're drinking equal amounts then when he's half dead the next morning I blast my music in his ear. Never gets old."

"I bet he  _loves_  you."

"It's all harmless fun." The sniper shrugged. "Though it wouldn't be as much fun if he wasn't such a grumpy bastard anyway."

"You two bitch like an old married couple." Lara smirked, loading her M9 and taking her place beside him.

"Yeah…but he knows I'm worth it." Toad winked to her arrogantly before firing again, bullet casings chiming around them. He paused to reload, turning to her as he did so. "You have a good night last night?"

"Too good." She nodded quickly, hating how true the words were.

"So I saw. Though there was some suspicious dancing to say the least."

"Dancing?" Lara's heart thundered in her chest, her mind reeling. Did Toad know? Had he seen them together the night before? How could she have  _forgotten_? She tried to hide the concern in her voice when she spoke out again. "How do you mean?"

"I saw you…you were the only one dancing." He laughed. "Or bobbing, rather than dancing."

"And you can do better?" Her grin was now wide with relief.

"In my sleep."

"Show me."

"Here?" He raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Chickening out?"

"You're kidding, right?" Rolling his eyes, Toad laid his hand gun carefully onto the nearby table, a seemingly irrepressible smirk on his features. When he was sure that he had her full attention he started shuffling backwards on the spot, his hips rocking back and forth whilst his right hand swayed in front of his waist, the fingers curled into a loose fist. The sight earned him a genuine laugh from Lara and she shook her head almost despairingly.

"I think I'll stick to  _my_  kind of dancing."

"Suit yourself. But it's all about the hips."

"So I see."

"Taking training seriously then, are we?" There was a new voice alongside theirs and almost instantly the smile was wiped off Lara's face. She didn't need to turn around to see the voice's owner, the distinctive cockney twang enough to send a shiver down her spine. Ghost had finally caught up with her.

"As always, sir." Toad laughed quickly, naturally unfazed. He nodded to him smugly. "I've been here half an hour already… So from where I'm standing, you two are the slackers." He gave the lieutenant a quick wink.

"Fair point." Riley nodded slowly in return, moving to Lara's left. "Archer's looking for you though, mate."

"He is?" Toad raised an eyebrow. "Did he say why?"

"Search me…I'm just the messenger."

"Typical." The sniper sighed, giving Lara an apologetic look. "I'll go see what he wants; otherwise he'll never let me hear the end of it."

The instant they were alone, Lara could sense Ghost moving next to her, could almost feel him glancing at her and not even bothering to hide it. She suddenly became so thankful for the gun in her hands and she raised it quickly, eager to fire off some shots and act as though he wasn't there, the loud, angry clangs helping to at least mask the tense silence between them.

She'd hadn't realised how zoned out she had become until there was a sudden, heated sensation beneath her t shirt, a burning, tingling pain against her sternum. Lara glanced down quickly, suddenly realising to her horror that one of the bullet casings had lodged itself into her cleavage, somehow managing to slip through the neck line of her t shirt with ease. She grimaced, shaking her shoulders and trying to dislodge it as quickly, and yet as subtly as possible, ever aware that Ghost was stood barely metres away. It didn't help and as the heat continued to transfer into her skin, Lara became less concerned with hiding her predicament. The casing finally fell to the floor with a distinct 'clink' and McCoy breathed a sigh of relief, realising seconds later that Ghost was laughing unreservedly behind her.

"Have you finished?" She said quickly, hating how her face reddened, reminiscent of the school years that she'd rather forget. She finally turned to face him, fixing him with an angry glare when he still continued to laugh. "Seriously…how  _old_  are you?"

"Old enough." The laughing soon stopped but Lara could tell that behind his mask lay the same, self satisfied smirk that she by now knew so well. "It's not my fault I can appreciate you making a twat out of yourself."

"I'm so glad I amuse you."

"Got to have some uses, haven't you?" He let out another arrogant laugh, taking a confident step forwards towards her. "Aside from the obvious-…"

"We are  _not_ talking about that. Right?" She rested one hand on her hips, her angered gaze fixed on his sunglasses. "Not now. Not  _Ever_."

"Who said I meant that? Told you…it's just between you and me. I'm not planning on telling anyone."

"And when did you become so  _honourable_?" Lara's voice was deliberately dripping with sarcasm.

"I didn't. I just don't want all the boys knowing how low my standards have dropped."

"You're fucking intolerable, do you  _know_  that?"

"So leave." The lieutenant shrugged bluntly. "If I piss you off so much."

"Why should I? Do you expect everyone to back down to you?" She scoffed, raising a defiant eyebrow.

"It's more fun when they don't." Riley nodded quickly, his arms folded as he paused to look at her for a moment. "Can't decide whether you're  _actually_  scared of me or not."

"I'm not scared of anyone." Lara shook her head, turning back so that she was facing down range, her back decisively to him.

"I didn't mean like that…"

"Don't you have something important to be doing?" The question came out just as she intended, an irritated snarl, anything to just get him to stop and leave her be.

"Sure, but training is important too." There was a short silence, and for a fleeting moment McCoy genuinely thought that he had gone, the tension in her shoulders finally loosening. But she was mistaken as soon as a body appeared close to hers, a single, gloved hand pressed flat against the small of her back. Her entire body froze at the action, her eyes blinking hard as she felt Ghost lean in closer, traces of hot air managing to escape through the wool of his mask and brush against her left ear.

"Get off me…"

"You're not struggling." Riley laughed softly right into her ear, the low tone of his voice sending involuntary shudders through all of her limbs. "… _Again._ "

"I told you to let go of me…"

"Is that what you want?" The hand on her back inched towards her waist. "Really?"

"…Yes."

"Just checking." It was as if someone had flicked a switch, Riley's hand suddenly lost from her back, his voice suddenly so much lighter, almost casual. He stayed leaning over her just long enough for him to speak again, his voice patronising this time. "You might want to reload. You need bullets to actually  _shoot_."

"I know."

"Good." He stepped backwards quickly, this time not bothering to move quietly as he took a good few steps away from her, Lara glancing over her shoulder just in time to catch him looking back in her direction. "You have a briefing at 9.00am tomorrow morning. I want you there by 8.30am at the latest."

"Yes."

"Yes,  _what_?" The challenging tone in Ghost's voice was sudden and almost unexpected.

"… _Sir_."

"Good." The lieutenant laughed quickly, already turning his back and walking away from her. "Let's just hope you remember how to follow your orders this time."

She'd hoped that by the end of the day she would feel at least a little less confused. She'd been optimistic, thought that she might have been able to at least resolve some consequences and lay them to rest.

She'd been wrong. At the end of it all, she'd just been left with what felt like an infinite number of unanswered questions. Ones that didn't feel as if they would be resolved for a long time to come. At least, she was sure of one thing and one thing only. After everything that had happened, it would be impossible to make the same mistakes again.

Then again, this was the 141. The task force seemed to thrive on impossibilities…


	9. Blind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

Everyone had their pre mission rituals. For Ghost it was all about zoning out. Now that he had been thrown into command? Well, it just felt that little more essential.

He'd always shower, although why he never really knew. After all operations were hardly clean work. But then again, there was always the reality that he could never be certain when his next shower would be, just as he was never sure when he'd next sleep comfortably or eat a non processed ration style meal. So his pre operation rituals would start early. He'd wake up, stuff himself with as much carbohydrate and chocolate as physically possible then shower. Once his body was set for the upcoming challenges, his mind would be next to follow suit.

The adjoining changing room was cold compared to the warm, humid air of the showers and a shudder shimmied its way along his spine as Riley towelled himself dry, his every move a precise and efficient one. He stepped into his boxers, pulling them up to rest just below his hips before following with his combat trousers, the clothing hanging baggily from the muscles of his thighs and calves. Already beads of water from his still damp hair were drizzling wet trails across his now damp skin, becoming lost in the stubble on his neck before glistening down his torso. Alongside his usual scars and markings were fresher, newer imperfections on his skin, thick pink lines streaking across his abdomen. He laughed, his eyes catching sight of a deep, oval bruise on his right pectoral muscle, hovering just above the dark brown of his nipple. A small smile cracked across his features.  _Lara._  The medic was hardly the angel she perceived herself to be.

_8.40am._

" _You're late." He'd been standing outside the operations room purposefully since twenty five past eight, waiting to see if the medic would follow his orders and be there as early as he had told her. But Lara was far cleverer than that. She'd arrived just late enough for it to be seen as a show of defiance._

" _Briefing doesn't start until nine,_ _ **sir.**_ _"_

" _My orders were half eight."_

" _I had other duties to attend to."_

" _And you think I care about that? I'm your CO. For now what I say_ _ **goes**_ _."_

" _For now being the operative phrase." A self satisfied smile broke out across the medic's features. "Fortunately you're not a tyrant who's going to be forever in power."_

" _You have a smart mouth on you." Ghost was unable to stop himself laughing in response. Lara's defiance only served to show him that she was a little scared of him at the very least. He leant back against the wall, folding his arms. "You wouldn't talk to Mactavish like that."_

" _I wouldn't need to."_

" _Fair play." Riley shrugged. "But still, speak to me like that in front of the others and you'll regret it."_

" _I don't respond well to threats."_

" _You will to this one." He laughed again, although the serious tone in his voice was not to be underestimated. "You can go in anyway." He indicated to the door beside him._

" _I thought you wanted me here early for a reason?"_

" _Did I_ _ **say**_ _I had a reason?" The lieutenant smirked. "You can play the good little housewife and make some coffee if you want to make yourself useful."_

" _Fuck you."_

" _Fine…don't. But whatever you do, just don't stand here and bitch at me." He angled his head towards the door again. "There's intel you can get started on."_

The same, smug smile still wide on his face, Ghost reached into his pocket, pulling out his mp3 player and jamming the earphones unceremoniously into his ears. He pressed play, his thumb turning the volume up to full as a heavy assault of loud, bass filled music poured into his head. It didn't really matter what it was or how musically accomplished the song might have been, just as long as the raging guitar blocked out the rest of the world. Leaning back against the wall, cold plaster almost sticking to his damp skin, Riley closed his eyes, letting his mind wander if only for a second. His thoughts ran straight back to the morning before, to Lara's defiance and the way it just made him want to piss her off even more. He laughed to himself softly. It was beyond childish, but the more the medic tried to shrug him off and ignore him, the more he wanted to push her. She was all front, she knew it and to her horror he knew it just as well as she did. In fairness, everyone in the 141 had to have a certain degree of emotional armour, a persona that would protect them from the banter and jeers on the base. But Lara, well hers was more complex than that. Especially now. Because every time she tried to show him that she was strong, that she wouldn't back down, she simply proved to him further that deep down that wasn't the case. She  _was_  scared of him. Maybe not physically, but that wasn't the point. When she'd slept with him, Lara had destroyed every shred of her calm, professional exterior completely, and now she was laid bare, left without any armour to hide behind. And morally wrong as it was, Ghost was willing to take advantage of that as much as he possibly could. Just for kicks of course.

"Hey…" There was a tap on his shoulder and Ghost's eyes flicked open instantly, his heart jumping in his chest. Roach was stood in front of him, his hair plastered to his head and a small white towel hanging from his hips. He raised a startled, yet expectant eyebrow.

"What?" The lieutenant flicked an earphone out of his ear automatically.

"I can hear that shit you're listening to." Roach smirked, his tone light. "You'll go fucking deaf."

"Oh yeah…because firing light machine guns is so much better." Riley rolled his eyes.

"Touché." Gary smiled, although his eyes wandered downwards for a second, resting oddly on his chest. Ghost watched him, a confused scowl winding across his own features.

"Um…Roach? I'm up here, mate."

"You're in a state."

"What? These?" The lieutenant laughed him off as Roach's hand reached out, indicating to the scratches across his stomach. "They're nothing."

"Where are they from?" There was an almost intense look in Roach's eyes that seemed to come out of nowhere.

"Does it matter?"

"It might."

"I just woke up with them." It wasn't a lie, but Riley would be damned if he'd give Roach anymore information than he had to. "Did you see me at Meat's party? I was pissed out of my  _skull_ , mate. I don't remember getting them."

"Really?"

"Really." He rolled his eyes, his hand moving up to idly twirl the hanging earphone between his thumb and forefinger. "Now are we finished with the twenty questions or was there something else?" He watched as Gary shrugged, his mouth opening briefly to speak. His hesitation was almost tangible and Riley interrupted him before the words could actually leave his mouth. "Why don't you go check up on your girlfriend? Make sure she's got all her plasters gathered together or whatever shit she's supposed to be doing?"

"With the greatest respect, sir." Roach said slowly, pausing to pull on his dark green t shirt. " _Fuck you."_

Roach either knew about Lara or was just acting oddly to piss him off.

Either way, the thought hardly disturbed him as Riley watched Roach get dressed in silence. In some ways it was strangely amusing seeing the cogs in Gary's mind turning as he tried to work it all out, the sergeant's protective nature completely misplaced. Smiling to himself, Riley pulled on his own t shirt, stuffing his music player back into his pocket in the process. Whatever Gary thought, it really didn't matter. As long as he didn't get in his way, Ghost doubted that he'd be a problem.

* * *

Herat Province, North West Afghanistan.

5.55am

" _You know what we're here for. We have intel to suggest that Antonov has friends in the desert north of Herat, a safehouse that they sometimes use for arms trading. Target building is the remnant of an old Soviet FOB. Previously it was a Taliban hotspot, but since the coalition forces pushed them out the Russian underworld has descended on the place like fucking vultures." Ghost cleared his throat. "Whether we take Antonov or not, destroying every weapons cache we find will deal them all a big blow. But if he_ _ **is**_ _there…" The lieutenant let out a confident laugh. "…Then I'm not planning on letting the bastard get away this time."_

Her briefing felt like years ago rather than mere days as Lara moved up, her body crumpled into an uncomfortable crouch. She looked ahead to the others in front, Ghost peering over the edge of the gulley whilst Meat and Roach covered his back. Her gloved fingers fluttered anxiously at her sides. Stealth, although an integral part of the 141 was also something she detested above everything else. It just felt so counter intuitive.

"Archer?...Archer….do you copy?" Ghost was hissing into his comms, his voice becoming that little bit more strained each time he repeated the sniper's name. He tried again but there was still no response. "He's gone dark."

" _The terrain is flatter than a billiard table_   _so sniping is out of picture. We'll split into two teams, with Archer heading the second. There are two points were we can advance undetected for as far as possible; a gulley to the south west of the target, and a low rocky outcrop to the north east. It's isolated cover, but it's the best we have. It'll be low light conditions, so watch for silhouetting yourself on the horizon…"_

The sound of gunfire stopped them from having to plan any further, it suddenly becoming more than obvious that Archer's team had been compromised. Lara swallowed hard, the chinstrap of her helmet tightening with the action. Her thoughts were still firmly stuck on Archer's radio silence…

"Shit's hit the fan now." Meat groaned, ducking down instinctively so that the lip of the gulley was providing him with as much cover as possible. "Orders, sir?"

"We move up…who ever is in there is trying to escape and we need to head them off." The lieutenant straightened up slightly, quickly taking in their surroundings. "Roach…you and Meat cover the left flank. Work your way around and cover the Western escape."

"Yes, sir."

"We'll take the right flank. Move in as close as you can but take no risks…we don't know what kind of drama we're dealing with here."

Lara was running after him on instinct, her head bowed and shoulders curved as they sprinted towards the nest of three buildings ahead. They were without cover and Ghost set an unforgiving pace, weaving his way towards the wall of their target building, a sandy coloured cement that was grey in the low light. Her momentum carried her forwards and her shoulders collided heavily with the wall, Ghost holding his hand up to silence her. He pointed to their left, where by the end of the building a guard was stood, hands clasped tight around his assault rifle, his head constantly looking in the direction of the gunfire. He was speaking into a radio, garbled Russian flowing from his mouth in long streams. Ghost drew a gloved thumb across his own throat, steadily making his way towards the figure. Bones held her breath as he drew nearer, watching his precise, stalking movements intently. It was all over before it had really begun. There was a brief pause in the Russian's report and Ghost made his move, stepping forward and sliding his knife across the guard's throat in what was obviously a well practiced move. It was not the quick slice that Bones was expecting, as Riley's hand continued to move forwards and backwards, cutting until both the jugular and windpipe were severed completely. She swallowed hard. It was brutal, but the only certain way of stopping a final scream or gurgle for help.

"Come on." The body dropped to the floor heavily and Ghost motioned at her with bloodied hands, sheathing his knife. He indicated for her to kneel beside him, the dead man lying barely metres away. Lara chose not to look down, instead checking around them whilst Ghost busied himself with his comms.

"Archer…do you copy?"

" _Ghost!"_  There was no hiding the grin of relief that pushed its way across her features when Archer's characteristically gruff voice sounded through both their comms, the patter of gunfire a constant backdrop.  _"Fucking good to hear from you, mate!"_

"You too. What's your situation, over?"

" _Five plus tangos still holed up inside building two. Their sentry spotted us…these rocks don't count for shit as cover."_

"Do you need an assist?"

" _Negative. Toad's taken a knock but he's fine."_ There was a loud yell of grenade somewhere in the distance.  _"We're advancing now. The rest have been driven back to the main building in the south west corner. Where are you?"_

"Building three. Preparing to breach."

" _Understood. We'll press on towards the main building."_

"Copy that, we'll see you there." Checking his ACR over in his hands quickly, Ghost turned to Bones, his emotionless balaclava splattered with the odd speck of blood. He nodded to their left, where a wooden door led into the cement building. Without a word he moved to stand at one side of the frame, wordlessly expecting Lara to follow. A flash bang was tossed into the room, and after the characteristic chime they breached.

There were three men stumbling around blindly and Lara hesitated just long enough for Ghost to cut down the first two with relative ease, blood spraying from their torsos as their leaden bodies collapsed to the floor. The third reached for his gun and aimed it in their general direction, causing Lara's heart to jump and her trigger finger to twitch. After a short burst, the man fell to the floor in a clumsy heap.

"Clear!" Ghost yelled and he darted forwards, his head and rifle scanning across every corner of the narrow room. Scattered around them was nothing of any real value, the room filled with iron bunk beds and sparse personal possessions, a radio talking to itself, lying forgotten by an upturned table.

"Must be their barracks." The lieutenant nodded, toeing a suitcase open to find it filled with mundane looking Russian magazines. "Any intel?"

"No, sir."

"Then we should move up. We can do a full sweep later." He nodded to her quickly, his left hand reaching up to his ear, pressing on his comm. unit. "Roach? Gimme a sitrep…over."

" _We're approaching the main building but they're pretty dug in with some heavy ordnance."_

"RPGs?"

" _Yes, sir."_

"Then flank round further west. Team 2 are advancing from the north. I want all exits covered."

" _Roger that. What about you?"_

"We'll advance from the front…keep them busy."

" _There's no forward cover…"_

"There's a burnt out truck…if we can get there the bastards won't be stupid enough to fire RPGs that close."

" _We'll keep them off you as much as we can."_

"Appreciate it, mate." Ghost nodded decisively, turning back to her. His skull might have still been grinning but as he reloaded Ghost's tone couldn't have been anymore serious. "This is only going to work if we stick together."

" _Buildings two and three appear to be peripheral, housing sentry units or possibly doubling up as some form of barracks. Upon assault both teams will converge on the main building in the southwest corner. It's the largest and if the weapons caches, or Antonov are anywhere, it's likely to be there. Chances are most of the forces will fall back to defend it, so we should be able to sweep through the compound after them."_

Time seemed to suddenly be unfocused, the world hazy. The ringing in her ears was beyond disorientating, shrill and piercing in her skull. She blinked hard, but her vision was still filled with soft, shaking edges, the clattering of bullets around her becoming echoes in her ears. Every breath inwards felt like a struggle, as if her rib cage was suddenly made of lead, and she tried to lift her arms, only stopped by an agonising pain that shot through the length of her left arm. Lara let out a sharp, confused cry, her hearing suddenly screeching back into clarity.

"Roach!" It was only when she heard Ghost's voice from above her that Lara realised she was moving, her body being dragged across the sand backwards. She instinctively tried to move again, but the pain in her arm intensified, sending her vision spinning further. "Get those RPGs off me! Bones is down!"

" _We're breaching now…give me time!"_

Her back was suddenly resting against something sturdy, Ghost's skull balaclava appearing in front of her vision. He was kneeling, staring intently at her left shoulder. Gloved hands reached out to touch it and a deep, steady jab of pain made her gasp, her teeth biting down hard onto her bloodied bottom lip. She tried in vain to articulate her left fingers, pins and needles stabbing into her palms. Gloved hands worked up to her face, and Ghost stared at her through his balaclava.

"Can you hear me?"

"…Yeah…" Only when she spoke was Lara aware that her helmet was gone, the familiar restriction of its chinstrap suddenly not there.

"I need to take a look at your shoulder, ok?" This time she nodded and Ghost's hands moved downwards, stripping her of her body armour and pulling at the fabric of her shirt. The pain in her shoulder continued to ebb as the cold air suddenly assaulted her skin, Ghost's hands catching her shoulder and sending a sharp jolt of pain through what felt like the majority of her torso. She groaned, still biting her lip as she craned her neck to try and get a better look at her left shoulder. What she saw didn't fill her with much hope…

"Dislocated…" Riley nodded slowly, his gaze moving from her shoulder to her face intermittently. He tilted his head, as if unsure what to do next. "I can fix it…but it's not going to be pleasant." There was a clatter of machine gun fire above them and he ducked his head down lower. "Need to be quick."

"…You've done it before?"

"Couple of times."

"…Only a couple?" Lara grimaced. For a second she toyed with the idea of leaving it, but she was aware of herself enough to know that it needed to be dealt with as quickly as possible. She groaned again, blinking hard whilst she psyched herself up. "…Just do it."

"You ready?" He got hold of her left arm lightly.

"Yeah."

"…Ok." The only saving grace was that he didn't hesitate further. In a series of fluid movements her arm was pulled out from her body, rotated around and then pushed back inwards, shockwaves of excruciating agony ripping through her, her shoulder suddenly set alight with pain. She tried to hold back a scream, biting down on her lip so hard that it bled further, the noise eventually leaving her lips as more of a strangled mewl. By now she was panting hard, as if her body was hoping that the extra oxygen might somehow dull the pain.

She was speechless, feeling only able to blink as Ghost fashioned a sling out of what remained of her shirt. Behind her the gunfire and yelling had begun to soften, the battle obviously losing its intensity.

" _Ghost…do you copy?"_ Archer's voice was a welcome interjection over their comms.

"I hear you, what's the situation?"

" _Threats neutralised and the main building is secure. There's more weapons in this place than back at base."_

"Any sign of Antonov?"

" _You're gonna love me."_ The sniper let out a rough sounding laugh.  _"We have 'im. Managed to get to him just in time to stop him sucking on his pistol."_ A stream of angry Russian erupted through the comms, soon silenced by a loud thumping sound. _"Is Bones ok?"_

"She's fine. Radio Mactavish and tell him we have Antonov. We'll move up and meet you."

" _Roger that, sir."_

Shouldering his weapon as well as hers, Ghost straightened up, giving Lara what she imagined to be a concerned nod. "Can you walk?"

"I'm not letting you carry me." She rolled her eyes, shuffling on the floor in a feeble attempt to gain enough purchase to stand.

"Stubborn bitch." Riley laughed, holding out his arm. She ignored it. "I won't tell anyone I had to help you up."

"I don't care about that."

"Sure you don't." He persisted, shoving his hand even further into her face. "Just take it, alright? I'm not standing here forever."

" _Andrei Antonov. He's in his early fifties as far as we know, a shady character who's worked his way up through the underworld ranks and come out almost at the top. He's tried his hand at it all, arms dealing, drug smuggling, you name it, he's done it. The Russian government suspects him of a terrorist attack in Moscow's red square during the late nineties. We think different. We believe him to have been working alongside other Russian terrorists, although specifically who and why, we don't know."_

It was surreal. A display of complete care and concern with a conflicting backdrop of brutality and violence. In the foreground, Ozone knelt in front of her, gently wiping away the blood that was caked to the skin just below her nose. Behind him, Ghost was yelling, screaming, his fist beating against Antonov's skull for another countless time.

"Can you remember what happened?" Ozone nodded softly, seemingly unaware of what was going on behind him as he began to wipe at her top lip.

"I fell…dodging an RPG." Lara blinked hard, racking her brains. The memory was like a blur, one that was horribly disjointed. "Must have fallen on my shoulder…guess I hit my head too." She attempted to reach up to her nose with her right hand but Ozone batted it away. "Is it broken?"

"Don't think so." He laughed. "But you've looked better."

" _Cheers_."

"You'll live anyway, if you'll take my humble, uneducated opinion." He gave her a quick smile.

By now, Lara really wasn't listening, her eyes fixated on what was going on in front of her, features flinching with each fresh punch that struck Antonov's face. He was tied to a chair, hands knotted firmly behind his back. Archer was stood behind him, his hands holding his face upright whilst Ghost laid another punch into him, the chair rocking backwards on its legs, the prisoner spitting blood.

"We've killed two kinds of mercs today. Half were your men..." Riley lashed out again, this time catching Antonov in the ribs, causing him to splutter and curse in Russian. "Tell me who the others were." Another punch collided with his ribs. "Who are you supplying?"

"Ya russkiĭ, ya ne ponimayu."

"You've already said that." Riley shook his head, cradling his hands against his chest. He'd removed his gloves, his knuckles by now red raw from the beating. "Just tell me who you were supplying…Who do the guns  _belong_  to?"

"Ya russkiĭ, ya ne ponimayu."

"I  _know_ you understand me, Antonov." He laughed darkly. "So shall we drop the helpless tourist act now?"

"I don't bargain with common brutes…" The Russian reluctantly spat, blood from his nose and mouth beginning to dribble down his chin, his right eye purple and already half shut. "I will speak to your superior only."

"You're looking at 'im." Archer scoffed from behind, nodding to Ghost. "He's our CO…so you tell him  _everything_ , got it?"

"And if I don't?"

"Then you're not useful." Riley slowly reached for his pistol, toying with it in his hands as if he was only just beginning to entertain the idea that he might shoot him. "There'd be no point keeping you alive."

"I am not stupid…your men risked their lives to capture me…  _alive_." The Russian laughed arrogantly. "You must  _need_  me."

"Nah…you've got it all wrong, mate." Bending down to his level, Riley took his time, his words slow and deliberate, the skull of his balaclava only inches from Antonov's face. "My men kept you alive so I could kill you myself."

Lara shifted in her seat. There was something about Ghost's tone that she didn't like, a dark quality that she had never really heard before. Her mind was a whirl of contradictions and conflicting thoughts. She knew perfectly well what Antonov was. He was everything she'd vowed was wrong, a manipulative, power hungry bastard who didn't give a damn where his weapons went or who they killed as long as he made a profit. He didn't  _deserve_ mercy. But at the same time, her own human empathy made her pity him. He was a human being like her, a man surrounded by enemies, beaten to semi consciousness with death hanging like a dark promise in front of his very eyes. On a humane level, how could she  _not_ empathise with that?

Once again she was caught between the two very different sides to her personality. The soldier in her chanted that he deserved it all. The medic in her wanted to save him…

"Y-you can't." Ghost's words seemed to have shaken even Antonov; the Russian's resolve suddenly that little bit weaker, his words stumbling. "I'm nothing."

"All the more reason to kill you then."

"No. I'm not who you think. I'm not-" A seemingly unnecessary punch to the jaw cut him off mid sentence, his voice becoming little more than a pained grunt. He spat away more bloody saliva, hanging his head to avoid more punches as he tried to speak again. "I-I'm not in command of all this."

"And who is?"

"I can't tell you…but it's not me…I have a wife,  _daughters_. I'm not the man you want."

"Sorry?" Ghost's voice was emotionless and unperturbed by his plea, the skull balaclava no longer the only thing masking his humanity. "You can't tell me…or you  _won't_?"

"I  _can't_." There was another barrage of punches, the pauses between them becoming steadily less and less. "…H-he'll kill me."

"And I won't?"

"I'd rather take a chance…with you…"

"A chance?" The lieutenant let out a dark laugh, nodding to Archer who quickly moved backwards. His pistol collided with Antonov's skull before he knelt before him, pushing the object hard against his temple. "Right now  _I'm_  the one you should be scared of."

"…I want protection." The Russian said slowly, although he didn't look up at Riley, even for a moment. "If I tell you his name…"

"Just tell me who he is."

"Protection!" The prisoner practically spluttered. "For me…for my  _family_!"

"Stop fucking with me. You give me his name…you _hear_  me? Give me his fucking name!" Lara watched as the gun was pushed even further into his temple, Ghost's other hand knotted firmly in the man's greying hair. Antonov hesitated again and Ghost pulled back the gun, lashing out at his face with it, a sickening crunch sounding as the metal collided with his teeth. The Russian spat again, blood and fragments of his teeth spilling onto the cement floor. He coughed, his head hanging, voice a barely audible mumble.

" _Makarov_ …Vladimir Makarov."

"He's the one you were supplying? These are  _his_  men?"

"…Yes."

"Where is he? What was he planning?"

"I don't know…He doesn't say."

"Tell me where the fuck he is!"

"I don't know! We never met…he always sends someone else!"

"You're lying!"

"It's true!" The Russian coughed again, finally raising his head. "All of it…" By now Ghost was back to piling punch after punch into the man's head, his chest and ribs, Antonov's body still bound and helpless. No one cheered him on, but no one rose to help him either. The rest of the men stood around in silence, some of them watching, some looking away. Lara wanted to close her eyes, but she was unable to. She wanted to stop hearing his pained grunts and groans, but she was unable to close her ears to them. To her, this no longer felt like a justifiable interrogation. This was needless torture. She stood decisively.

"Ghost!" The word had left her mouth before she'd thought it through, but Riley instantly stopped, letting go of Antonov's head and taking a step back. "Don't you think that's  _enough_?"

"He's lying…"

"We don't know that…"

"He has to know…"

"If you beat him anymore we're not going to know any different." She shook her head, pointing to him angrily. "Look at him…he's in no fit state to help us."

"Then maybe he should help us sooner rather than later..." Riley shrugged, kneeling again so that he was face to face with Antonov. He slapped him across the face almost playfully to make sure he was still awake. "I'm going to ask you one more time…ok?" He gave him another slap when his head drooped. "Understand?"

"I know nothing more…Makarov always sends someone else with my money…I've never met him in person."

"Can you trace your own guns? Is there any way of tracking them?"

"Not after I have sold them…not by me."

"Ghost…" Archer's voice suddenly felt like a dose of normality, his voice instantly dispelling a little of the tension around them. "Exfil in thirty minutes. We need to get moving."

"Get the C4 set up on those caches. I want this place blown sky high."

"Yes, sir."

"Antonov?" Lara gave an automatic nod in his direction. "Do you need me to patch him up?"

"I can handle it."

"You sure?"

"Go help Archer…we don't have much time." Ghost waved his hand at her dismissively. "I can take care of him."

As soon as she turned her back, Lara knew it was a mistake. There was a split second pause and then a loud gunshot, a single, ominous sound that chimed off the walls of the empty room around them. The noise felt as though it was echoing through her thoughts and Lara instantly spun round, her eyes faced with the one thing she hadn't wanted to see. Antonov's body was slumped forwards, lifeless, the wall behind his chair splattered with random streaks of red. She swallowed hard. She'd seen many men die, had killed men herself in the past. But at least they had all been able to defend themselves.

Ghost holstered his pistol, walking past her slowly. As he passed her his eyes caught her gaze, and for a split second she saw a fleeting glimpse of remorse locked somewhere deep inside them. He spoke out, his voice low and monotone. "I had my own orders, Bones."

Lara allowed herself one last glimpse at Antonov's body, walking towards it slowly. She heard Ghost call her name, but she ignored it, moving around the back of the chair and kneeling down. With her good right hand she gripped her combat knife, dragging it clumsily through the rope that tied his wrists together behind the chair, the rope shredding beneath the blade. Slowly she moved back around to his front, her hand drawing over his face quickly, leaving his eyes closed in its wake, traces of blood from the oozing gunshot smearing onto her hand. Behind her, Lara could practically feel Riley's eyes burning into her, but she didn't care, empathy the only thing on her mind. Right then it didn't matter what Antonov had done or who he was, only the simple fact that if it had been  _her_ , tied to that chair and executed, she would have hated to have been left tied up like an animal and staring blankly into space.

She turned her back and walked away, but the McCoy that left Afghanistan that day was not entirely the same as the one who had entered the country 24 hours before. She was battered and bruised, but alongside that she had lost her whatever naivety about the 141 she had had left.

Now she knew exactly what it meant to be a part of the 141. And not only that, but what might someday be expected of her too…

 

* * *

 

**Oh and according to google translate:**

Ya russkiĭ, ya ne ponimayu – I am Russian, I don't understand.


	10. Rise and Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

_5_ _th_ _January 2012_

" _If you want to know what I think…" David laughed gently, handing her the neat pile of t shirts from her bed. "I think you're bloody insane."_

" _So do I." Lara smirked in return, pushing them into her duffel bag, her hands pressing down hard as she attempted to draw the zipper closed. "But it's more fun that way, right?"_

" _Are you sure 'fun' is the word you were looking for?" Her brother rolled his eyes, collapsing down onto her bed with overdramatic force. He fell backwards so that his head was laid back on the duvet, his legs hanging over the side. "Because to me drab uniforms, regimented living and months of pouring over dusty military history sounds like_ _ **hell**_ _."_

" _You're such a chip off the old block." Lara laughed sarcastically, rolling her eyes and sitting down next to him. "Dad must look at you and wonder what happened."_

" _Hey…" The comment earned her a sharp jab in the ribs from David, before he propped himself up on his elbow to look at her. "Is that what this is all about though? Dad?"_

_If there was one thing about David that she hated, it was the way he could read her like a Sunday morning newspaper. He had that certain look where his green eyes would relentlessly stare at her, an obvious sign that he was working her out, usually to full effect. And Lara_ _**hated** _ _it. She liked being able to hide, being able to keep her emotions bottled up tightly within her own head. She was good at it too, confident that she could keep everything from her parents and they'd be none the wiser. But David? He knew her too well, seemed to understand exactly how her mind worked. This time was no different._

_It might not have been her only reason, but there was no getting around the fact that she had first considered the military because of her father. She'd grown up with him as an infantryman and for as long as she could remember he'd dropped hints about David following in his footsteps, his voice as passionate as she had ever heard it when he referred to the military. David however had never shared this aspiration and as soon as it became clear that he wanted to study rather than fight, Lara had half decided that she would join up herself when she could._

" _What makes you say that?" He might have been right, but that didn't mean that she had to admit to it straight away._

" _You've been back from Uni, what? 6 months? And all you've talked about when you got back has been bloody Sandhurst." He rolled his eyes. "It's not hard to connect the dots, Lara."_

" _I've never wanted to be stuck behind a desk…"_

" _So you choose dodging bullets instead? You could have worked in A &E if you wanted variety…"_

" _I have my reasons, alright?"_

" _And one of them isn't because you want to impress, dad?" He sighed softly, running a hand down his face. "You're not fooling anyone, Lara."_

" _It's not_ _ **just**_ _about dad, ok? Sure, he's a part of it but…" She paused, her hands tangled in her hair as if they were helping her to think. "I just feel like I can make a difference this way…put my training to good use."_

" _And the only way of doing that is in the army?" David scoffed. "By throwing away your free will and becoming some state serving robot?"_

" _Stop it…" Lara spat, edging away from him on the bed. "Don't bring your anti military bullshit down on me. Not today."_

" _I just want you to realise what you're getting yourself into…"_

" _I'm aware, David. Believe me." She rolled her eyes; her voice was already beginning to soften. "But I'm sick of having to justify this to you and mum."_

" _Can you blame us for being protective? We all remember what it was like when dad was on tour."_

" _And you think I don't?" Lara laughed darkly. "I'm not exactly relishing the thought of doing that to mum all over again." She bit her lip, lying back on the bed, her head colliding with the mattress with a heavy thud. Closing her eyes for a minute, she tried to pick the right words, but every sentence she seemed to construct didn't do how she felt justice. "Would you believe me if I said that this just feels…_ _ **right**_ _?"_

" _Like this is your calling? Give me a break, Lara."_

" _I didn't say that…But, it just feels like what I want to do." She sighed, turning her head to face him, holding his gaze for long enough to show him that she was serious. "I'm a big girl and this is my decision."_

" _Maybe that's the problem…" He laughed softly. "You're not to me. Deep down you're still that baby girl my parents brought home one day." He shook his head, sitting up straight so that his back was now to her. "…I'm sorry, ok? I don't mean to be such a twat about all this. Honestly."_

" _You're not being a twat…"_

" _I'm not being supportive though, am I?"_

" _You helped me pack…" Sitting up so that she was beside him again, Lara gave his arm a quick, playful nudge. "I'd still be lost in a pile of clothes if it weren't for you."_

" _You don't fold things properly." He rolled his eyes, although this time his manner was affectionate rather than confrontational. "I can't have you pitching up at the Academy with creased clothes."_

" _See?…Supportive." She tilted her head so that it was resting on his shoulder, a rare gesture of affection that ordinarily would feel a little forced. David reached around, slinging his arm around her shoulders and giving her a soft squeeze._

" _You're going to take care of yourself aren't you?"_

" _Course I am."_

" _Promise me." His voice was nothing if not serious._

" _I promise."_

" _Good." Giving her arm another quick squeeze, David let go, standing up abruptly. He cleared his throat, his voice suddenly the usual upbeat, carefree tone that Lara was used to. "We should stop all this soppy shit…if mum walks in it'll only set her off."_

" _Agreed."_

" _So how about I take my little sister out for her last civilian pint?" He held out his hand invitingly. "If you're nice to me I might even make it two."_

" _Sounds brilliant. About time you stopped being so cheap."_

" _Piss off." He rolled his eyes, pulling her upwards. When he looked at her again a soft smirk was visible on his features. "One condition though?"_

" _What?"_

" _Ditch the oversized khaki shirt. I feel like I'm going out with Jean Claude Van Damme."_

A heavy jolt sent everything crashing back into focus, Lara's shoulder practically  _burning_  from the action.

The helicopter lurched again and Lara opened her eyes disgruntled, looking around quickly. None of the other men seemed particularly fazed, some of them attempting to sleep, the others staring blankly into space. They were dusty, battle weary and sore and yet the atmosphere felt so mundane, so ordinary, as if they hadn't just finished a mission that had left many men dead and played part to a brutal interrogation. Lara swallowed hard. She couldn't decide if it was better to be desensitised to such brutality or not. Her guess was that it made life one hell of a lot simpler within the 141. She just doubted that she was capable of it herself.

Her eyes strayed dead ahead to the figure sat opposite and Lara jumped when she realised they were doing the same, familiar brown eyes almost studying her. She met Roach's gaze and for lack of anything better to do, gave him a gentle nod, a gesture that was somehow supposed to represent the beginnings of an apology. Gary paused for a second before smiling back weakly, his eyes locked on hers the entire time.

They'd have to talk, but the confines of an exfil helicopter was hardly the ideal place, Lara leaning back and closing her eyes again. Memories of home instantly came flooding back across her darkened vision, everyone of them a fragmented memory of a past life, of the person she  _had_  been. She could remember her naivety before her training at Sandhurst, her first day with the Medical Corps, even the reaction she'd received when she'd joined the Paras. In a lot of ways it was all so recent, and yet at the same time it was an entire lifetime away.

Had the 141 already begun to change her? In all honesty, Lara truly didn't want to know and she endeavoured to push the question from her mind, its answer too frightening to contemplate. Desperate for distraction, she began trying to list as many tendon and ligament attachments as she could, hoping that the boring task might force her into sleep. Although she knew that she would have to face up to the days events sooner or later, for the moment it was far better to hide within a haze of drowsiness and semi conscious thought for as long as physically possible.

* * *

A devoted Captain would have had his thoughts focused on the fact that the mission was a success, that their target was caught and neutralised and that in the process his team had managed to secure valuable, if vague intelligence.

As it was, Mactavish's mind was far more concerned about the 'no casualties' part of Ghost's debrief.

"Your team did excellent work, Riley." Shepherd nodded slowly, one hand splayed out across Mactavish's desk, a cigar smouldering away in the other. "With Antonov's death we've taken a key player out of the game…it's been a long time coming."

"He was quick to deny his importance, sir…" Ghost replied quickly, his hands knotted behind his back. As was Shepherd's way, both he and Mactavish were stood in front of the desk, a clear display of the other man's importance and rank.

"He was trying to save his skin…nothing more." The General took a thoughtful drag from his cigar. "I have a pile of damning intel on him a metre high…he was too dangerous to be kept alive."

"He mentioned a Vladimir Makarov." Soap said slowly, ignoring the ache in his thigh that was almost begging him to sit down. "Am I to understand that he's our new prize, sir?"

"Makarov's no prize. He's a whore. A mad-dog killer for the highest bidder." Shepherd shook his head with distaste. "But he still needs to be taken down."

"What intelligence do we have?"

"Very little. We know what he's done and how he did it but aside from that…" Shepherd slid a slim file of intel across the desk towards them, Soap stepping forwards and automatically beginning to flick through it. "He's a smart ass, which makes him ten times more dangerous."

"He's not been active since 2009, sir?" Soap raised a curious eyebrow, looking up from the file.

"Exactly. A foiled bombing on a Moscow soccer stadium. The authorities were getting twitchy…covered the whole thing and denied him the publicity." The General rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't let my men anywhere near…After that he just dropped off the radar."

"Until now." Ghost nodded. "Antonov was definitely supplying Makarov…and by the number of mercs we encountered this didn't feel like a one off,  _small_ operation."

"Then we need to know what he's planning…why after 7 years the man has decided to choose now to reappear." He cleared his throat, sucking in another drag from his cigar. "I already have men on a clean up operation. If Antonov kept records, we'll find them."

"And if he didn't, sir?"

"Then we'll keep our ears to the ground. Makarov can't hide indefinitely and when he finally comes to the light…" The General smiled. "I want my task force to be ready for him."

"And in the mean time?" Soap shook his head slowly. "With respect my men are useless sitting around waiting for intel."

"It's business as usual, Mactavish. Believe me; I won't put your men to waste."

"Understood, sir."

"But when I do find Makarov…and believe me, I  _will_ , remember that I won't hesitate in sending everything we have after him." Slowly the General stood, moving around Mactavish's desk and nodding to them both. "I might not have infinite resources, but I do have the best group of warriors on the damn planet."

* * *

She might have been praised as a good medic, but Lara was pretty certain that she was a terrible patient.

It was strange, sitting in the infirmary whilst one of the nurses peeled away the ragged shirt that had served as a rudimentary sling from her shoulder, their hands although delicate still causing an intense amount of pain. The discomfort of having the sling removed was only bested by the agony of having a new, clean one put in place, but Lara fought hard to try and ignore it, her teeth gnawing into her bottom lip. In fairness she'd been offered pain medication, countless times, but she'd turned it down. It was almost like penance.

"Walking wounded, eh?" Toad smiled. Lara by now had been left to her own devices in the infirmary, sub consciously staring into space until the sniper suddenly appeared at her side. He laughed at her obvious surprise. "Sorry…I didn't mean to scare you shitless."

"It's ok." Lara smiled weakly, nodding for him to sit down on the bed beside her. "I'm not really with it."

"You took a bad hit. How's the shoulder?"

"I'll live." She just managed to stop herself from shrugging in time. Glancing at him, she suddenly remembered his reason for being in the infirmary, cursing herself for being so self absorbed. "What about you? Archer said you'd taken a hit…"

"Don't stop being our medic, right?" Toad laughed, lifting up his t shirt to show a white gauze taped across his abdominals. "Just a bit of peripheral damage…I'm fine. Not enough to get me on the injured list like you or Mactavish."

"I'm in no rush to get out there again."

"You say that…but it's fucking boring being stuck on base. Archer snapped his hamstring once…you think he's a gruff bastard now…you should see him when cabin fever has set in." He laughed. "Not pretty."

"I can imagine." She managed to produce a false chuckle, but it was hardly convincing and Lara was painfully aware of the fact.

"So…" Toad sighed. "You going to start telling me what's wrong or do I have to keep up the small talk?" When she met his gaze his eyes were filled with an almost uncharacteristic maturity. "C'mon Bones, this  _isn't_  you."

"I'm fine…"

"And I'm a shoe in for Captain…" The sniper rolled his eyes. "Credit me with at least a bit of emotional intelligence here."

"Only a bit?"

"I was being modest…" He shrugged, a grin plastered across his features. "Come on… _tell me_."

"Do you ever…" She hesitated for a moment, biting down on her lip. "…Do you ever wonder why you do this?"

"All the time."

"And what do you tell yourself? When you doubt it?"

"The truth?" Toad laughed nervously, a still grimy hand running through his matted black hair. "Shit…I'm no good at all this deep stuff, Bones."

" _Try…_ "

"I guess… I take pride in the fact that I'm here…doing a job that not many people could do. One that not many people would  _want_  to do. And I'm good at it too, so…"

"But how do you justify it? What we do?"

"I see it as necessary…" He shook his head. "In an ideal world…sure, we wouldn't need an army, or guns and all that other shit. But take a look around. The world doesn't work like that." He laughed darkly. "I guess people like us are needed. To do the ruthless, brutal things that no one else wants to do."

"Do you ever want to say fuck it and just quit?"

"Everyday. But will I? No." His mouth moved into a crooked smile. "I'm in too deep. This task force is my life…it's where my friends are, guys I know would die for me if they had to. I can hardly just fuck off and abandon them." He sighed. "Besides…I joined the army at 17…what else would I do if I wasn't stuck here?"

"I guess…" Lara rubbed at her aching forehead with her left hand. "Nice to know I'm not on my own."

"Anyone who says this life doesn't get to them is a fucking liar." Toad laughed, nudging her left arm with his elbow. He stood up slowly, being sure to make eye contact with her as he did so. "But give it time, Bones. You're still new around here…no one said adjusting was going to be easy."

"But its gets easier, right?"

"Eventually. It's intense…but that's how it goes. You can't be a part of the 141 casually. It either becomes your life, or you're in the wrong job." He nodded to her quickly. "Get some rest and decompress a bit. You'll feel differently later…I promise."

When he left, the infirmary was plunged back into silence, but Lara's thoughts were quite the opposite. Now alongside her own doubts and internal monologue were all of Toad's justifications, words which clashed against her own opinions with resounding force. She let out a soft groan, cradling her head in her good hand. By now she was silently terrified. Three weeks ago, this had been only a promotion, but now Lara was beginning to realise the full reality of her transfer. Through every progression in her military career, Lara had had to surrender a little more of herself. When she'd joined up, she'd had to sacrifice seeing her family, had to accept missing her brother's civil partnership whilst she was on tour. When she'd joined the Paras, she'd had to abandon her relationship with Toby and the security it gave her. And now? With her ascension into the 141 Lara felt as though she was having to sacrifice herself, along with all of her principles and ideals.

In the space of 24 hours, her job had morphed into being so much more than a simple medic. And the thought hadn't got any easier. If anything it was just getting more difficult to deal with…

* * *

It was a happy coincidence that led to Roach standing in front of Ghost, his fists clenched and ready to block a testing blow.

They were both a similar height and build, so being sparring partners was a logical decision. It was good tension release and for the most part Roach enjoyed the challenge, Ghost being just as strong as he was and not easily thrown.

However, today was different. Roach wanted to let it go, hell, he'd been telling himself resolutely that there was nothing he could do; no matter how much he hated the thought of Ghost and Lara together. He'd been so close to pursuing it, to confronting Ghost in the showers and pushing him hard against the lockers until the arrogant smile disappeared from his features, but he'd stopped himself, just in time before he could escalate matters further. After all it was common knowledge that Riley was quick to anger, but Roach was far happier to handle things diplomatically if it was at all possible.

Unfortunately Riley did himself no favours. It was almost as if he knew exactly how to get underneath Roach's skin. On this occasion it was working too, as every second longer spent around the lieutenant had Gary's blood boiling within his veins.

"Let's see if you can actually lay a hand on me this time…"

Ghost came at him with his first punch and Roach blocked it, raising his hands in time and side stepping the blow. He waited for Ghost to come at him again before grabbing the arm that extended out towards him, twisting it just enough to cause a soft twang of pain and then pushing backwards, causing the lieutenant to stumble. Normally at this point there would be his usual celebratory smirk and jeer, but instead Roach stayed silent, already advancing on the other man.

"Got a problem here, mate?" Ghost said quickly, pulling off his mask and throwing it aside as if it were a hindrance. His eyes were more angry than confused and he flexed his fingers within the confines of his leather training gloves.

"I think that's classed as one point to me…" Roach couldn't resist replying with a self satisfied smirk.

"It's not over yet…"

"It will be soon." Gary laughed. "Or are you going to get a hit on me this time?"

Riley's response came in the form of a sudden explosion of speed, his shoulder shunting forwards and catching Roach openly in the ribs. He groaned as bone clashed against bone, not having the time to reprimand himself for being so easily caught off guard as his hands struggled to push Ghost away, the lieutenant shoving forwards again and knocking the air from his lungs. Roach spluttered, giving Ghost the time he needed to edge around his body, a swift kick to the backs of his knees causing Gary to involuntarily tumble to the floor.

"You were saying?" Ghost laughed above him, a crooked, arrogant smile splayed across his features.

" _Fuck you_."

"Not so fun when you're the one on the losing end, right?" He raised an eyebrow, offering a gloved hand out to Roach. " _Get up_."

"Sure." Gary took his hand gladly, using all of his strength to pull on his arm and bring Ghost stumbling down onto the floor beside him. A dark laugh left his mouth and he scrambled to his feet quickly, Riley quick to do the same, his features no longer displaying the same arrogance they had previously. Before he could say more the lieutenant was stalking forwards, his hands shoving Gary in the chest, bare face suddenly inches from his nose.

"What the fuck is  _wrong_  with you?"

"We're sparring…"

"That was a cheap shot and you know it…" Riley spat, punctuating the statement with another push.

"Can't handle losing, sir?"

"Don't try and pull the innocence act with me, alright?" Ghost rolled his eyes. "It won't fucking work."

"And you'd know…right?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know full well…" Roach shook his head. "Do you think I'm stupid or something?"

"I think you've stopped making fucking sense, mate…"

"Sense?" Roach laughed sarcastically, responding with a shove of his own. "Lemme help you. Those scratches of yours... you don't remember getting them, right?" The sergeant cocked a mocking eyebrow. "Need me to fill in the blanks for you,  _sir_?"

"They're none of your damn business…"

"Why? Because I  _actually_  give a shit?" Roach scoffed. "I saw you leaving the Infirmary…there's no point denying it."

"I said…" Ghost brought his face closer, squaring his shoulders as if he was attempting to make himself appear taller than he was. "…That it's none of your fucking business…"

"Then stop screwing with my friend…"

"Or what? You going to throw a little temper tantrum every time I do?" Ghost laughed sarcastically, shaking his head. "It's obviously been awhile for you and you've forgotten how this works, so let me remind you. It takes  _two_  people to screw, Roach. Remember?"

"She was drunk…"

"You think I wasn't?" Riley rolled his eyes. "What's it going to take to get rid of this angelic image you have of her? She's no fucking better than the rest of us."

"And you're hell bent on showing that.  _Why?_  Does it make you feel like a big man bringing her down to your level?"

"You make it sound like I fucking  _forced_  her." A soft, triumphant smile spread across Ghost's features. "Believe me, she didn't take much persuading."

"She's not your toy…"

"When did I say she was?" Riley laughed. "We're both consenting adults…we can do what the fuck we like."

"It's fraternisation."

"Are you threatening me?" The lieutenant tilted his head, angry eyes locked with Gary's. For a split second his features remained livid as he processed the threat, before a satisfied, impromptu smile broke out, softening his face instantly. "You wouldn't go to Mactavish about this…even if you wanted to. Not if it meant giving your precious Bones a bad name." He rolled his eyes. "I'm right aren't I?"

"Just because I care about her."

"Who says I don't?" Ghost laughed. "You're quick to tell me what I'm thinking."

"You've been on her case since day one."

" _Professionally_. Last time I checked there was a difference."

"Really?" Gary smirked, folding his arms. "Where was the difference when you fell into bed with her?"

"I don't know…" The lieutenant shrugged. "Ever thought about asking her that? Like I said…she didn't bother playing hard to get."

"Stop talking about her like that…"

"Or what? Are you  _actually_  standing here and trying to defend her honour?" Riley smirked, watching the look of anger swell in Roach's features. " _Fuck_ …You're jealous, aren't you? That's what all this protective bollocks is about?"

" _Fuck off_."

"Why? 'Cos I'm right?" The lieutenant paused, giving Roach the chance to contradict him. "I am, aren't I? Weeks of following her around and it's me she screws." He laughed, his tone smug. "Fucking grow a pair, mate."

"You just don't get it, do you Simon? You can't get your head around thinking about someone other than yourself for a change."

"Don't even  _try_  and get into my head, alright?" The amusement was lost from Riley's face instantly, his eyes suddenly so much more intense, focused. "Because you have no idea what the fuck you're talking about."

"You sure about that?"

"Positive. Because if there's one thing I stopped thinking about a long time ago, it was myself. You got that?"

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?" Roach rolled his eyes, stepping forwards confrontationally. "Forget everything you've said just because of some long dead tortured past?"

"Drop it, Roach."

"Little close to the bone, is it?" Gary laughed, a testing shove pushing Riley backwards. At last he had found something to use, an illusive way to get right under Riley's skin and he intended to exploit this new angle as much as possible. "So you can say all this shit to me but at the end of the day you can't take it yourself?" He smirked. "And you told  _me_  to grow a pair."

"Didn't you hear me?" Ghost shook his head bitterly. "I said… _drop it_."

"Poor twisted, fucked up Riley…" Gary laughed darkly. "No wonder you had to get Lara hammered before she'd even consider sleeping with you…"

The following pause told Roach more about Ghost's state of mind than anything else, the lieutenant fresh out of witty, hurtful remarks, his fists clenched and body rigid as he stared at the sergeant with indignant eyes. For a moment, neither of them moved, the gym plunged into an uneasy, forced silence, the particles of air feeling so tense around them that they almost became crushing. Barely seconds later, it was as if someone had pressed the 'on' button…

Riley was the first to snap, a gloved fist forcing its way into Roach's face with so much force that it rattled the teeth in his jaw, causing him to bite down painfully onto his tongue. His vision became hazy, frenzied and he lifted his hands just in time to block the following punch, grabbing the lieutenant's arm by the wrist and wrenching it to the side, his free right hand capitalising on the situation and sending a sharp jab straight into Ghost's ribs. Doubling over, Riley spluttered, winded, a split second window of opportunity for Roach to act again, this time with a swift uppercut to his jaw. The burning in his knuckles might have been intense, but the cracking noise as the bones of his knuckles connected with Riley's jaw was enough to send a satisfied smile across Roach's features.

He hesitated for too long, his mistake becoming blatantly obvious when Ghost darted forwards, shouldering him again in the ribs, except this time there was so much force behind the action that they fell to the floor, Riley quick to pin Roach with his legs. What followed were a flurry of frenzied, softening punches, seemingly random as they bounced off Roach's jaw and cheek bones. The metallic tang of blood permeated his mouth when a particularly sharp hit connected with his bottom lip and Roach groaned, kicking up his legs to gain enough leverage to flip them over, Riley suddenly finding his back pressed hard again the synthetic floor of the gym. This time, Gary wasted no time, a purposeful punch hitting Ghost's nose with the sole intent of breaking it. As blood began to pour from his nose, Roach followed it up with another hit just below the lieutenant's eye, his right knee jabbing almost instinctively into the other soldier's ribs with astonishing accuracy.

"What the fuck?" The red mist that had descended on him had silenced Roach's ears to his surroundings and his heart thudded in his chest when firm hands were suddenly tugging at his torso, pulling him backwards and off of Ghost's body. They were yelling his name as Roach struggled, his limbs flailing as the hands continued to pull him backwards, but their grip was too tight and he soon gave in, his chest a flurry of movement as he attempted to catch his breath. In front of him Archer was helping Ghost to his feet, standing instinctively between the two of them.

"Fancy telling me what's going on in here?" It was suddenly apparent that the hands holding him back belonged to Mactavish, the Captain's thick Scottish accent angry and confused. Roach struggled again and the hands dug in tighter, putting painful pressure against his bruised torso. "Ease it up, mate. Don't give me reason to put you down myself."

"Fucking get off of me!" In front, Ghost was wrenching himself away from Archer, his eyes instantly meeting Roach's. For a moment he was content to stare, wiping his bloodied nose on the back of his hand. "And  _you_ …don't you come near me. Got it?"

"Fuck off…" Roach moved forwards, his body instinctively ready to fight again if it had to.

"Hey!"" Mactavish's grip tightened further and he heaved Gary back, Archer moving in to help him as the Captain moved in between them. "You're both going to cool off…then I want to see you. Understand?" He raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between them both. "I want answers for this…"

"I've got nothing to say." Ghost rolled his eyes.

"Too bad. You still answer to me, mate." Soap shook his head. "Go get yourself cleaned up…"

"Gladly…" Riley laughed darkly. "But if you think I'm apologising…you can forget it."

"That was an order,  _lieutenant_ …" Soap merely barked in response.

With Ghost gone, Roach instantly felt a little calmer, tugging his arms away from Archer's restraining grasp. He took a deep breath inwards, ignoring the stinging pain in his ribs, his torso suddenly feeling tender and sore. He hissed at the action, his tongue instinctively lapping the blood away from his split lip.

"You alright, mate?" Soap nodded quickly, although there was barely any real concern in his voice, replaced only by a clear distaste.

"I'm fine, sir."

"You don't look it." The Captain raised an eyebrow. "Want to tell me what was going on here?"

"Sparring, sir."

"Cut the bullshit, Roach. I'm not in the mood." Mactavish rolled his eyes. When he spoke again his tone was blunt, dripping with authority. "You're going to tell me everything, alright? Because I want to know exactly what it takes to get two of my team leaders so wound up."

"Nothing, sir."

"Really?" Soap gave him a stern look, folding his arms slowly. "I'm not buying that. So, why don't we start from the beginning, eh? With you telling me what the hell is going on?"


	11. Beautiful Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

"What the  _fuck_  do you think you're doing?"

For a split second she was back in her teens, yelling angrily at her mother for combing through her possessions whilst she was away at school. She'd thought then that the lack of privacy had been the worst feeling in the world, the ultimate violation. But seeing Ghost wandering through her quarters, his hands clumsily all over her things was at least ten times worse, a blatant disregard for her that both disgusted and angered her in equal measure.

"Looking for you." If the lieutenant felt any guilt for being caught he certainly wasn't showing it, keeping his back to her whilst he dropped the book in his hands back onto her bed casually. "Where were you?"

"This is  _my_  room." Lara rolled her eyes, stepping into the room. "You don't just waltz in here uninvited."

"I can do what I like."

"Really?" She laughed darkly. "Common decency means nothing to you, does it, Simon?"

"Like I said…I was looking for you."

"Then wait for me in my office like everyone else." She hissed angrily. "Or at least have the balls to turn around and actually face me."

When Ghost did turn around, the sight that greeted Lara was hardly what she had been expecting. His face was a patchwork of colour, his nose swollen and bruised along the bridge. Around his left eye a dark, blossoming patch of purple was beginning to form, the whites of his eyes blood shot and angry. Another bruise was starting to shadow his jaw line, the short, blonde stubble surrounding his mouth tainted with red, as if the blood had been wiped away with little thought or care.

"For the record…" He gave her a pained smile. "I  _did_ go to your office. But you weren't fucking there…so I came here."

"What the hell happened?"

"Your little pet did." Riley scoffed. "Then again…You should see the state of  _'im_."

"Who-"

"For fuck's sake, McCoy. I'm talking about Roach." The lieutenant rolled his eyes. "Are you deliberately this clueless?"

"That doesn't sound like Gary." Lara shook her head slowly. "What did you say to him?"

" _Christ_ …what is it with you two?" Ghost laughed, his tone more exasperated than actually amused. "You both think you're  _so_ innocent." He gave her a deliberate smirk. "Gary loses it too… _just_ like the rest of us."

"Not without good reason."

"True…But maybe you should have thought about that  _before_  you spilled your guts to him, eh?" The lieutenant folded his arms. "Personally, I thought we were keeping this quiet."

"He wouldn't…"

"Oh he fucking would." Riley laughed, drawing a loose circle around his face with his fore finger. "Or do you think I did this to myself?"

"Riley…"

"What?" He sighed, leaning against the wall. "Don't go thinking I came here for an apology or any of that shit."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because last I heard… _you_ didn't want anyone hearing about this. Next thing I know, Sanderson is getting all righteous on my arse. I wanna know what changed."

"He guessed."

"And you couldn't  _lie_?" He folded his arms. "Don't tell me…this is one of those 'he deserved the truth' clichés, isn't it?"

"What the fuck do you want from me, Riley?" Lara yelled, being sure to kick the door closed behind her. "I'm not just going to stand here and be your punch bag."

"But you're happy to be everything else right? Bleeding heart, medic, fucking conscience for the whole task force." He smirked arrogantly. "Hell, get enough vodka down your neck and you'll even open your legs…"

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Lara wasn't thinking as she advanced on him, closing the gap between them so they were stood practically face to face, Ghost's slight height advantage forcing her to look up at him. "What makes you think you can talk to me like that?"

"Can't help but feel that you gave up the right to complain when you fucked me…" He smirked, his features becoming more amused the angrier she became. "Special treatment, right? Unless you're screwing the rest of the base while you're at it?"

"Fuck off, Riley." Her hands were shoving against his chest before she even realised, even Ghost taken a back by the sudden action, although he barely even moved in response. "I'm not your plaything."

"Plaything?" He cocked an almost sincere eyebrow in confusion. "Now what makes you say that?"

"You treat me like shit and at first I took it. You didn't like me being here, I could handle that."

"And now?"

"Now?" Lara rolled her eyes. "Now I'm just fucking sick of it."

"But are you?" Despite her best angry glare, Riley stepped forwards, the same self satisfied smirk plastered across his features. He craned his neck, moving his face directly opposite hers no matter how hard she tried to avoid direct eye contact. "I think you're lying."

"You're delusional."

"Maybe I know you more than you give me credit for." He shrugged. "If you were so bloody sick of me…then how did we get into this mess in the first place?"

"I've told you…I was  _drunk_ …"

"You're still hiding behind that are you?"

"It's true!"

"But it's not the whole story is it? Sure you were drunk…but you weren't fucking paralytic. Even _I_  have some standards." He laughed, watching her carefully. "A bit of you wanted me, needed me…whatever you want to dress it up as. And you  _hate_ that don't you?"

"What point are you trying to prove here?" Lara shook her head slowly. "Because if you want me to admit something-"

" _Please_!" Ghost scoffed. "I don't kid myself that it's anything more than sex. But face it, Bones. As much as you wish I was a mistake…I'm  _not_."

"Are you done trying to get into my head?"

"Depends…You going to admit I'm right yet?"

"You know  _nothing_  about me." Lara rolled her eyes. "I don't see why you're so keen to convince me otherwise."

"For the hell of it? I don't need a reason for anything."

"Such a free spirit." McCoy sighed, glancing away from him, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "What's it like to have no ties to anything?"

"Fucking shit." His reply was blunt, monotone, almost well rehearsed, but its honesty caught her off guard. "But that's none of your business."

" _What?_ " She pouted mockingly. "I'm not allowed to try and get into your head too?"

"Couldn't if you tried. So it's easier for both of us if you don't."

"You seem sure."

"I am." He shrugged bluntly, his bruised face lost in thought for a split second. Almost instantly he snapped out of it, the smirk that he suddenly seemed so reliant upon returning to his features. "Besides…I know all I need to about you."

"Talk about misplaced confidence."

"Really?" He laughed. "Do I need to prove it?"

"I doubt you can."

"Bad move…I love a challenge." He laughed, his tone low and deliberate. His lips still spread in a smug grin, Riley reached forward, a hand hovering by Lara's neck. It never touched her skin, but the eye contact he held with her was enough to tell her his intention. "If I bite down there…you lose it. Right?"

"We are  _not_ doing this…"

"Didn't say I was wrong though…" He inched his hand closer, watching her every movement carefully.

"24 hours ago those hands were beating a man senseless." She gave him a dark look. "I don't want them  _anywhere_  near me."

"That's your excuse?" Riley rolled his eyes, his smile crooked and amused, although when he spoke again his voice had an almost sombre, serious quality. "Believe me…they've done a lot worse."

"And you're proud of that?"

"Not in the slightest, but I'm damn good at my job." He shrugged, taking a step closer. "I've done what I've done. You didn't seem to care last time."

"I hadn't seen it."

"Like that makes a difference." He smirked. "If you're so bothered…move away."

"Why should I?" Lara raised a defiant eyebrow. "I don't have to back down to you."

"Because…you don't want to."

"Believe me…that isn't it."

"Really?" He moved his hand nearer, flicking his fingers knowingly over the exposed skin of her neck. "Then stop me…"

"Let go."

"Or what?" He laughed. "You gonna take a swing at me too?"

"I told you to let go of me…" Lara met his gaze, her body tense beneath his touch. "Fucking do it."

"Make me…"

He anticipated her next move perfectly, McCoy's right hand moving upwards in an action that was caught between a slap and a punch. Either way it never hit its mark, Ghost's free hand instantly grabbing it, his first curling around her wrist. The grip was tight, almost bruising and Lara struggled, shrugging the hand at her neck away. The pressure around her wrist grew tighter and Ghost laughed, his still slightly bloodied lips spread apart in a wide grin. He leant in closer, his voice teasing. " _Check mate_ …"

Lara had meant to mutter something distasteful back and wrench herself away from him as quickly as possible. However, as it was, she never got the chance.

"So…it's true then?" The hand was instantly lost from her wrist and Lara's body froze. It was poor that neither of them had heard the door to her quarters opening but it was downright mortifying that neither of them had realised that Mactavish was listening in on their exchange. The sudden tension in the room was almost palpable. Neither of them spoke, silence building in intensity that it almost became deafening. "I came here to ask first but it looks like I don't need to bother."

"Sir-" Riley was the first to speak, his face blank and void of any real emotion.

"Thought I gave you an order, lieutenant?" Soap nodded sharply. "Get yourself cleaned up."

"Now?"

" _Now._ " The Captain nodded curtly. "Like I said…we'll talk.  _Later_."

"But-"

"Don't bother undermining me further, mate." The look in Mactavish's eyes was almost amused and he stepped away from the door, indicating to Ghost as he did so. " _Leave._ "

She hadn't wanted to turn around and Lara waited until Ghost was gone before she started to move, the slam of her bedroom door feeling as explosive as a gunshot. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide when she finally faced him, a nervous swallow forcing its way down her throat. She tried to meet his gaze, but the cold stare she found there was hard to stomach, Lara instead choosing the relative safety that staring at the wall behind him offered.

"So this is how it is?" Mactavish's voice was controlled, almost passive.

"What is, sir?"

"Drop the sir, Lara." The Captain laughed darkly. "We're a little past that, don't you think?" His eyes were practically burning into her and Lara nodded slowly, unsure of what else to say. Choosing instead to avoid his gaze further she waited for him to speak again, humiliation raging through her system like wildfire. "That's all I get?"

"I'm not sure what you want me to say."

"You could start with an explanation…" He rolled his eyes. "Although after what I've just heard I think I have all the proof I need."

"How much do you know?" There was no point playing coy anymore and Lara finally met his gaze, no matter how difficult it felt.

"Enough." The Captain folded his arms, leaning back against her door. "Roach is busted up pretty bad…I needed an explanation and he was forced to give me one."

"I didn't mean for him to get involved."

"But he still did."

"I realise that."

"I don't think you do." Soap shook his head slowly. "There's a  _reason_  relationships like this shouldn't happen."

"It isn't a  _relationship_ …" She couldn't stop the words spilling out of her mouth, her mind desperate to offer some justification. "It just happened…"

"For something that 'just happened' it's already fucked up my task force. It takes months for us to build up the trust we need to get us out of operations alive…now I have two of my best men at each other's throats." He sighed, running a hand across his forehead. "All because  _you_  decided you couldn't keep it together."

"With respect this isn't all my fault…"

"Did I say it was?" Soap snapped back, intense eyes fixed upon hers. "I promised Shepherd that my men would be nothing but professional…you think I haven't noticed Riley behaving otherwise?" He laughed softly, almost defeated. "I  _defended_  you."

"Sir-"

"What did I tell you?" Mactavish rolled his eyes, taking a step forwards which instinctively caused Lara to move back. "If you're trying to justify this, you're wasting your time. The damage has already been done."

"I'm not even allowed to  _try_?"

"What's the point? You made a mistake and now I'm the one having to pick up the pieces." He shook his head. "I'd say you've done enough."

"So what now?" Lara laughed weakly, her good arm held out to her side in a pathetic action of mock surrender. "I'm labelled a whore and extradited back to the Paras?"

"Whilst my men have to get used to another medic…someone they have to trust without question?" Soap sighed begrudgingly. "There's enough tension in my team as it is."

"Then what do I do?"

" _Honestly?_ " The Captain raised a scarred eyebrow. "I don't really care. But if it gets in the way of my men again I  _will_  have to take action. You can take this as my first and only warning."

"And will Riley get the same speech?"

"You're questioning me now?" Soap laughed quickly. "If you want to get a reaction out of me, McCoy, then you'll have to try harder than that." He turned his back, reaching for the door handle. "We're  _done_  here."

Honesty was a double edged sword. There were moments when it was necessary to keep the truth hidden away, to keep it wrapped up and protected by layers of vague conversation and ambiguous behaviour. And then there were moments where it was a sin to stay silent, to bite your tongue and hold it all back. In the seconds that followed, Lara decided that this was one of those times.

"Always about the task force, isn't it, John?" She called after him, the words leaking from her mouth before her brain had the chance to stop them. It was the bitter, twisted question that she'd wanted to throw at him the night they'd kissed, the words that she'd been fighting to hold back ever since. "At least that's what you tell yourself anyway."

"Lara…"

"What? I'm supposed to believe that all that was about a bit of lost morale?" She rolled her eyes. "Meat fractured Roach's wrist, remember? Did he get this little chat?"

"This is different." Soap didn't turn around, but the low, irritated tone of his voice was blatantly obvious. "More serious…"

"For who?" Lara laughed bitterly. "The task force or you?"

"What are you trying to say, McCoy?"

"That you're full of shit,  _sir_ …" Lara smiled, her voice deliberately dragging across the word. "You come here and tell me what I should or shouldn't be doing…blame me for complicating things with my mistakes." She shrugged, her eyes intently staring into the back of his neck as she took a step forwards. "Seems to me like you've forgotten about  _your_  mistake."

"We've talked about that…"

"Apparently trying to justify it doesn't count for shit…" She laughed darkly. "So what makes this any different?"

"I stopped myself…" Soap shook his head slowly, his voice quiet. "You and Riley didn't bother."

"So we went a step further…does it really make that much difference?" She scoffed. "You're still hardly the image of professionalism, are you?"

" _So what?"_  The Captain spun around in seconds, his eyes filled with a new intensity as he took a step towards her, arms held out wide. "So I'm as guilty in this as both of you. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Then why do you fucking care so much? We've both made a mistake but you're determined to punish me more for mine."

"I told you…my men-"

"And we're back to this!" Lara shook her head in disbelief. "This task force…your fucking command. Is that all you give a shit about?  _Really?_ "

"It's who I am."

"And what about the guy before all of that? Where's he?" She cocked an eyebrow. "Is he still even there? Or is he just too busy hiding behind his rank?"

"Watch your tone…"

"Why?" She laughed exasperated. "Am I getting a bit close to the truth?"

"I don't have to justify myself to you."

"I'm not fucking asking you to! All I want to know is if there's even a shred of you that cares about anything other than this task force."

"Why does it matter so much to you?" Soap spat, his face instinctively moving closer, eyes wide with frustration.

"Because you made me feel like nothing!" Lara was in too deep now and even if she'd wanted to stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth she was unable to. "You used me like a piece of meat…told me I was a fucking mistake…." She laughed bitterly. "How was I  _meant_  to feel after that?"

"Does it matter?"

"To you? Maybe not. But to me…" Her voice faltered and she swallowed hard, the words sticking momentarily in her throat. "It did. Believe it or not I was actually stupid enough to let myself care about you."

"So you go sleep with my lieutenant?"

"At least he's been honest with me about what it was." McCoy spat. "You can't seem to make your mind up."

"So that's what all this was…something to try and make me jealous?" A dark smile spread across Mactavish's features. "You're more pathetic than I thought."

"That's not fair…"

"And what you've just said to me is?" He sighed, his eyes fluttering closed. "Do you think I  _enjoyed_  hurting you? Or worse yet, do you think I'm so stupid that I didn't even realise?"

"You fucking  _knew_?"

"Have you been listening to anything I've said?  _This_ …" He gestured between them with his right hand, his finger pointing. "…can't happen. It doesn't matter if you want it to or not."

"So you lied to me? Deliberately hurt me so I'd leave you alone?" She shoved her hand hard against his bicep. "Because that's so much better?"

"I did what I had to."

"That's your excuse for everything."

"It's the truth."

"It must be so nice to live in your world…" Lara laughed, although the sound was hollow, empty. "A place where the end  _always_  justifies the means."

"Are you trying to tell me yours is better? Act first, think later and fuck the consequences?"

"That's who you think I am? Honestly?"

"You're hardly doing yourself any favours."

"I don't know what I did to give you such a low opinion of me," McCoy rolled her eyes, although there was no denying the hurt quality to her voice. "I made  _one_  mistake…"

"And now you have to pay for it."

"Like you, right?" An almost sick smile spread across her lips, her words designed for little more than to be as cutting as possible. "You're so busy being a martyr for all of your mistakes that you can't even  _think_  of anything else."

"You're quick to tell me what I think."

"Are you really telling me it isn't true? You're so caught up about the men you've lost that it's become all you are…"

"And don't tell me…you're the one who's going to save me?" He laughed cynically. "Is that what you want?"

"I just want you to  _see_." She shook her head, her voice defeated. "There  _has_ to be more to you."

"And what if there isn't…?" Mactavish shrugged, an undeniably sad tone underlying in his words. "What if this is  _all_  that's left?"

"It  _can't_ be."

"You mean you don't want it to be."

"Is that a crime now? You make caring about you sound like its fucking  _illegal_ …"

"It's a waste of time. I'm not like you…"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I have self control!" Soap hissed, his breath so close that it brushed against Lara's face. "I can't give you what you want, Lara. It's unethical, it's selfish and above everything else…I'm not  _able_  to. I don't know who the hell you think I am but…" He backed off, his tone softer this time. "You're wrong either way."

"So that's it? You're just giving up?"

"You have to start something to give up on it.  _We_  never did."

"And you're sure about that are you?" McCoy's features remained unconvinced.

"Positive. This finishes now…I've had enough of it."

"And what about me?" Lara spoke out weakly, watching him turn his back on her for the second time. "What if I don't want it to end?"

"Then you need to snap out of it." He turned his head, the eyes that had once been solemn now cold and hardened. "This is who we are, the way the 141 works. If you can't handle that, then maybe it's better for all of us if you do leave."

She was done fighting as Mactavish finally stormed out of the room, the slam of her door behind him shaking her both physically and emotionally. She was dumbfounded, her mind instantly reeling from just how quickly the conversation had escalated out of her control. Somewhere, in amongst her eagerness to reach the truth, she had only served to make things worse, creating more tension within her team rather than alleviating it like she'd half intended.

A fresh headache beginning to sting behind her eyes, Lara sighed, collapsing down onto her bed, her right hand clamping across her face to block out the light. It did nothing to ease her thoughts. The sensation of her still fighting a losing battle was firmly engrained within her mind, no matter how hard she tried to shift it.

* * *

12 hours later, the base was swathed in darkness, iced, brittle air seemingly able to permeate every building. A low lying mist had descended between the Infirmary and the main barracks, the flood lights casting defined yellow ellipses out onto the tarmac. A shiver ran down the length of Lara's spine, but she didn't bother gathering her shirt any closer to her body, instead silently hoping that the cold would bring her to her senses. A sigh exhaled from her lips, escaping as a wispy cloud into the dark air and she looked upwards, eyes fixed on the starless sky. She laughed to herself weakly. If only her mind was as blank.

She hadn't felt this lost since the night Toby had moved out of her flat. Back then their relationship had been the main definition of her life outside of the army, the time they spent together enough for her to remind herself of what  _reality_ was like, the civilian life that she had passed up so lightly all those years ago. Now, that same, drifting feeling was all the more intense. When she looked in the mirror Lara was the same, but the person locked behind her eyes had changed, evolved and grown. She felt as though she'd lost her identity, the morals and values that made up who she was. Hell, the 141 had even managed to cause her to break her own stringent rules, something that had only served to spin everything out of control and force it into chaos around her.

She closed her eyes. Just like Mactavish, she didn't recognise herself either.

When her legs finally began to move, it was almost an automatic movement, the logical side of her brain feeling pleasantly disconnected as she strode forwards towards the barracks. Warmth, her bed and sleep were all waiting for her back in her room, but suddenly that no longer felt like enough as her pace quickened, her feet breaking into a slight jog when she cleared the concrete steps that lead to the familiar double doors. Once inside, she moved as silently as she could, slipping past the eerily dark and empty rec room, the usually lively room plunged into an uncanny empty silence. When her body finally reached its destination, Lara's hand was knocking gently against the wood of the closed door of its own accord, the movement soft and painfully aware that the rest of the base was asleep. She waited, but there was no response. Feeling a little braver, Lara knocked again.

"What the  _hell_?" The door opened, slowly at first, a face barely visible in gloom as it peered through the gap. Weary, confused blue eyes met with hers and Riley's bruised face twisted in pure confusion. " _Bones?_ "

"Can I come in?"

"Sure…I…" The lieutenant stumbled over his words, obviously realising that whatever conversation was coming was better off in his room as he stepped aside, pulling the door open for her as he did so. Lara stepped forwards into the dimly lit room, hearing the door close and lock behind her. Now fully encased in darkness, she heard Ghost move around her, his motives left unknown until he flicked a nearby lamp on, orange light thrown out suddenly into the room around them. "What's going on?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"So you decided to come wake me up?"

"I guess." Lara shrugged idly. Her eyes flicked across his angry yet perplexed expression but they didn't stay there for long, straying down to his bare torso, the defined muscle much more prominent in the low light. "Sorry…I wasn't really thinking."

" _Clearly._ " The lieutenant folded a single arm across his stomach, the other moving upwards and running through his sleep ruffled hair. "We've got training in three and a half hours…whatever you want to say to me, can't it fucking  _wait_?"

"Did I mention talking?" Lara laughed softly. "You're hearing things, mate."

"Then if you want a shoulder to cry on…I'd go bother Roach."

"I don't want that either." It was sheer impulse that caused her to step forwards, closing the distance between him. "I thought I might take you up on your offer instead."

"My offer?" Either Riley was always this clueless after an abrupt awakening or he was deliberately playing hard to get.

"Yeah…round two, right?" She gave him a knowing smile.

"Have you had a lobotomy since the last time we spoke?" She was met by Riley raising a confused eyebrow. "You didn't want me touching you…"

"I changed my mind."

"Why?" The lieutenant laughed. "I'd have thought after Mactavish burst in on us you'd be avoiding me like the plague."

"He knows…but he can't stop us."

"I thought him knowing would be enough for you."

"What? Are you  _scared_?" She grinned, ghosting her good right hand up his bare arm slowly. "I thought you didn't give a damn about anything?"

"I was talking about you."

"Would I be here if I hadn't thought about this?"

"With you,  _anything_  is fucking possible." Riley's tone was serious but that didn't stop him from reaching out and curling his left hand around her waist, pulling her closer. "But if we're really doing this, I have two rules."

"Name them."

"First, you don't stay the night. Second, there's none of that soft, cuddling shit. Understand?"

"It's funny…" Lara nodded slowly, tilting her head to one side. "I have the same two rules myself…"

She kissed him before she could come to her senses, their mouths meeting roughly and without any real care. Ghost's body pressed tighter against hers, his hands busying themselves with pushing her shirt off her shoulders whilst Lara's mouth pushed forwards, her tongue deepening the kiss. She groaned, half out of pleasure, half out of pain when his hands raked across her back, one of them catching her sling in the process. Ghost barely registered the action as he dipped his head, nipping and sucking at the exposed skin of her neck like he had said all those hours ago. As promised, McCoy promptly lost it, a soft moan escaping her lips when his lips found the pulse point of her throat, her hands pushing him backwards until his back collided with the wall hard.

She wasn't allowed to dominate him for long when Riley flipped them around, forcing her back painfully against the plaster. She didn't care as he lifted the fabric of her t shirt out of the way, the material clumsily becoming tangled with her sling before he lost interest, ducking his head and sucking a long line along her collarbone. The action caused her to hiss sharply, her free hand entangling within his mess of hair as encouragement, her hips grinding forwards into his to spur him onwards.

It didn't take long until his hands moved down, cupping her arse and lifting her upwards so that her legs wrapped their way around his hips, her torso trapped between his chest and the cold wall. Another rough kiss left her lips reddened and tender, Lara tearing away from the contact so that she could press her own row of retaliating kisses down his neck, each one more a bite than the last. The reaction from Ghost was as she hoped, earning her a soft growl, his grip becoming firm enough to bruise. The tightening of her legs around his hips was all it took to push him onwards and soon the cold wall was lost behind her, soon replaced by the softer warmth of his mattress.

He was kissing his way down her stomach before Lara caught hold of her senses, but she quickly pushed them aside, closing her eyes and focusing purely on what she was feeling. It was pure animalistic, immature lust, but right then if it gave her ten minutes worth of peace she welcomed it, her hands messing in his hair and guiding his head down further.

She barely recognised herself but somehow that was justification enough in itself. It was a mistake that she was readily making again, but one she was already being punished for. After all, in Mactavish's own words, the damage had been done, just not in the way that he had first meant. In sleeping with Ghost, Lara had wrecked what remained of his trust, of the strange, half caring relationship that they seemed to share. With all that lying in tatters, what more harm could losing herself in Ghost really do?

Like it or not, Lara was ready to find out.


	12. Mixed Messages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

Toad, known only to a privileged few as Chris Williams, liked routine. He hadn't always, hell as a teenager he'd rebelled against his parents as much as humanly possible, joining the army the last straw in his efforts to push them past breaking point. But the military had changed him, in his opinion  _improved_  him, forcing him to realise all too quickly that routine could sometimes be the only thing that made you actually feel  _safe_.

It was possibly the one thing he and Archer had in common, his sniping partner a good eight or so years older, yet still just as stuck in his ways as Toad was. He was gruff, reserved and quite often standoffish, but a man whose dedication and sheer experience commanded respect anyway. He didn't play well with others, and he definitely didn't suffer fools lightly, but he was honest, and there was no doubting that Toad trusted him completely.

It was just gone ten o clock, a cold spring sun moving upwards steadily in the sky, casting long drawn out shadows across the tarmac. The air was crisp, cool, shattered by the occasional measured gun shot fired on the range. The silence between shots was just how they both liked it, the rest of the task force well practiced in allowing them the range to themselves for an hour every morning rather than face Archer's constant looks of distaste and irritation.

Toad squinted, focusing all of his concentration on his 'master eye' as he prepared to take the shot, confident that his prior calibrations were nigh on perfect. Lining up his sights, he squeezed his finger gently against the trigger, taking a deep breath and preparing to fire.

"Training was interesting." Archer's voice suddenly rang out, his eyes never leaving his own gun sights. The sudden noise had made Toad jump and although his shot still met its mark, it was off centre just enough to frustrate him. "Don't you think?"

"You're choosing  _now_  to be talkative?" He replied grimly.

"Oh I  _am_  sorry…" Archer smirked, firing his own, faultless shot. His voice might have tried to sound sincere, but Toad was well aware that his timing had been deliberate.

" _Sure_  you are."

"You've done it to me enough times." The older sniper shrugged, straightening up and glancing down the range. "Anyway, my point still stands. It was awkward as fuck this morning."

"How do you mean?"

"Always knew you were blind, Chris."

" _Blind?_ " Toad gave him an indignant look, his features quirking into a grin as he considered a fitting rebuttal. "You'll go blind before me,  _old man_."

"Touché." Archer rolled his eyes, although a rare, yet definite smile darted across his mouth. "Maybe this is one old man you need to listen to more?"

"Where's the fun in that though?"

"Try it sometime, you might find out."

"Wouldn't want to deprive you of all that high ground though, would I?" Toad smirked, clicking the safety onto his rifle and resting it gently on the floor. When he looked up his face was nothing if not expectant. "Go on then, what words of wisdom are you  _desperate_  to share?"

"I can't believe you didn't notice." Standing up, Archer turned his back, discarding his rifle and side arm onto a nearby table carefully, his voice tainted with amusement. "There hasn't been this much tension in the task force since… _fuck_ …I don't even remember when."

"Tension?"

"Don't you think it was strange how Mactavish lead training…even though he's still technically injured?"

"You know the captain." Toad laughed, adjusting his position on the floor so that he was sitting cross legged. "He can't sit on the sidelines for long."

"But Riley said  _nothing_..." Archer turned round, his face almost creased in exasperation. "You know those two. Half of the shit they say to each other is all bravado and banter."

"Sounds familiar…"

"Fuck you, Chris." He rolled his eyes. "My point is Mactavish was livid and for once even Riley didn't dare cross him."

"Then what's his problem?" Toad shrugged, his left eyebrow lifted in confusion. "I thought you said the orders to eliminate Antonov came straight from Shepherd? Riley made the right call."

"It's got nothing to do with the 141." Archer laughed quickly. " _For once_."

"Then what do you know that I don't?"

"Who says I do?"

"You're  _gossiping_." Toad nodded quickly, attempting a serious look. "So just get on with it and fucking  _tell_ me…"

"In a nutshell?" Archer tilted his head, his mouth twitching indifferently. "Riley fucked McCoy."

"You're kidding me?"

"That's what Gary said after their little punch up…"

"You're sure?"

"It's what he said."

"But… _Riley?_ " Toad shook his head, his brow furrowed as though he was thinking hard.

"Jealous?"

"Oh…you'd love that, wouldn't you?" The younger sniper rolled his eyes dismissively. "'Course I'm not…but those two? I could have sworn that they fucking  _hated_  each other."

"Who says they still don't? Last time I checked it didn't matter so much."

"Not everyone in the world is as rough a bastard as you, mate"

"Fair point." Archer laughed quickly. "But still…it's what I heard. Tell anyone else on the base and I'll be telling Mactavish I want a new spotter.  _Clear?_ "

"Oooooh, don't go trusting me  _too_ much there." Toad rolled his eyes, standing slowly. "I doubt Bones would appreciate me spreading this around anyway."

"The only secrets the 141 have are those that affect OPSEC." Archer smirked, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket and clamping it in between his teeth, his voice muffled as he spoke around it. "Everyone will know soon enough."

"Well it's not going to come from me…hardly the first to screw someone in the task force is she?" He paused, leaning against the table beside Archer as he lit his cigarette. The older sniper automatically offered him one, but Toad shook his head quickly, choosing to fold his arms instead. "Why's Mactavish so livid?"

"Fraternisation…besides, you didn't see the two of them yesterday. They were ready to tear each other to pieces." He laughed in between drags. "Personally I'd have left them to it."

"You  _would_."

"Was strange though." Archer shrugged pensively, his eyes fixed straight ahead. "You should have seen Mactavish when he found out. I've not seen him look like that since Jimmy was slotted." He rolled his shoulders stiffly. "It  _really_  got under his skin."

"Don't think he was jealous, do you?"

"I doubt it." The older sniper cocked his head to one side. "This is Mactavish we're talking about. I respect the hell out of him but let's face it. The man's got that stick so far up his arse that the only thing he's going to want a relationship with is his rifle."

* * *

It was safe to say that John Mactavish was not a sentimental man. A single look around his stark, white washed room was enough to tell you that much at the very least.

For once, it had nothing to do with the 141. Back home in Elgin, his bedroom had been the plainest room in their modest, three bed roomed house, the walls adorned only with posters of bands whose music would constantly piss his mother off to no end. In barracks, it was the same story, except the posters of bands would sometimes be replaced by pin ups, the women changing but their lustful, yet blank expressions always managing to somehow endure.

His current poster was of Angelina Jolie, an old picture that he no longer had the time, or  _desire,_  to change.

The only two truly personal possessions that he kept were constantly hidden from view, tucked down at the bottom of one of his drawers, not through lack of care, but because of what they represented. They weren't solely memoirs of his life back home, more reminders of the man he had chosen  _not_  to be. Looking at them everyday was less reassuring and more like being kicked in the teeth.  _Repeatedly_.

It hadn't been a conscious decision, but somehow he had ended up holding them, his fingers curled around the objects possessively. In his left hand sat a picture of a girl, dark haired and smiling warmly, a mortar board perched precariously on her head and a roll of paper in her hands.  _Sara_. Soap rolled his eyes. He'd been on SAS jungle training when she graduated. He let out a low, dark laugh. His father had given him the biggest bollocking in his life, a one sided argument that he could still remember as if it had only been yesterday. It was ironic to think that after everything he'd faced, the opinion of his old man was something Soap still feared above almost everything else.

His sister's smile brought with it a deep pang of gut wrenching guilt and Soap quickly pushed it back into the drawer, the feeling practically sickening him. His attentions turned to the other object, a single banded gold ring that suddenly felt so heavy in his right hand. He felt its weight in his palm, rolling the metal through his fingers so that its single diamond caught the light. He'd been meaning to pawn it off for nearly four years, and yet somehow he'd never gotten around to it.

 _Carrie._  Soap had never planned on being the type of man who would propose to his childhood sweetheart, but it had happened either way. They'd dated through school, splitting up when Carrie left for Dundee both believing that they might find something better. They didn't, and two years into his army career they were back together, Carrie even moving to Hereford with him when he made SAS selection. At the time she was just what he needed, someone who was quite happy to have a fiancé in uniform, just so long as he told her nothing about his life away from the safety of the barracks.

His experiences within the first week of SAS service had changed everything, and John had returned with far more than the shrapnel damage to his body. It was a defining moment in his life, opening his eyes to the real world of the SAS whilst driving a stake right through the heart of his and Carrie's relationship. Suddenly what made her so ideal meant that they no longer spoke, no longer attempted to try and connect, their conversations becoming empty and false all too quickly. Things deteriorated steadily and a posting abroad for six months led to Soap returning home to a dead flat, empty wardrobes and a rushed message on their answer phone. Weeks later, the engagement ring was returned to him through a mutual friend.

" _I can't give you what you want, Lara."_

The abundance of meanings for that one sentence alone made Soap's head spin and he quickly tipped the ring back into his drawer, metal colliding against the thin, cheap wood with a heavy  _clunk_. As always, Mactavish's language had been very precise. Just because he couldn't, didn't mean that he didn't  _want_  to.

His past was littered with broken relationships both romantic and familial. The one thing that had laid waste to them all? His career. After Carrie, Soap had merely decided that enough was enough. He'd failed enough people to know when it was time to simply  _give up_.

"John?" A pounding knock against his bedroom door was like a slap to the face and Soap's thoughts returned to him in an instant. He stood up instinctively, anger already beginning to twitch at the corners of his mouth upon recognising the voice. A few more seconds passed, and there was another, heavier knock.

"Does this look like my office?" He should have at least tried to stop himself from being on the offensive as soon as he opened the door, but Riley's blatant disregard for his orders was too potent to be ignored. Soap searched the lieutenant's face for any kind of amusement, but he was met only by cold defiance.

"No,  _sir._  But you weren't _in_  your office." Ghost spat back.

"Then you wait for me."

"With respect I have duties too." The lieutenant raised a smug eyebrow. "Or am I just supposed to spend my days hanging around just for you?"

"You follow orders now?" The captain scoffed. "Makes a change."

"Very funny." Ghost rolled his eyes, glancing up and down the corridor that surrounded him expectantly. "Are you going to let me in? Or are you happy for the whole barracks to hear what you have to say to me?"

"I don't give a shit who hears. You on the other hand… _might_." Reluctantly, Mactavish stepped aside, allowing time for Riley to step into the room before he closed his door with a definite slam.

It was by no means an ideal situation. At training, Soap had attempted to ignore Ghost as much as possible, silently reaffirming his authority by leading the session himself, no matter how uncomfortable his leg had felt, itchy and stinging beneath his combats. The only direct orders he'd given his XO had been that he would see him in his office that afternoon, his words nothing if not blunt and precise.

It was a confrontation that he'd been waiting to have, attempting to cool off this time after what had happened with Lara. But it hadn't worked, and Riley hardly made it easy for him to keep his cool. Showing up at a moment when Soap had allowed himself a rare moment of vulnerability was one thing, but encroaching on the personal space of his quarters was another entirely. At the best of times, however plain it might have been, Soap's room felt like the only place where he could at least try and forget the 141. Now it was forced to bear witness to everything Mactavish didn't want to hear.

"Do we really have to do this, sir?" Ghost's voice was exasperated, his arms held out to his sides. "I already know what you're planning on saying."

"And that's a good thing?" Soap let out an incredulous laugh. "Maybe you should have thought about that before all this shit hit the fan?"

"I hardly  _planned_  this."

"Course not…because you don't plan  _anything_ , do you, mate?" The captain rolled his eyes. "That would require you to  _think_."

"Oh come off it, John. You're making this sound like I fucked deserted." The lieutenant shook his head despairingly. "What happened between me and McCoy has fuck all to do with you."

"It's fraternisation, Riley. That makes it  _my_  business."

"Fraternisation?" Ghost laughed, an almost sick smile spreading across his features. "Nah, mate. You've got it all wrong. Fraternisation implies that emotions are involved."

"So that changes everything does it? I should just let you keep doing what the fuck you like because you're not emotionally involved?" Soap scoffed. "And you wonder why they won't promote you higher than lieutenant…"

"Fuck you,  _sir_." True to his aggressive nature Riley was the first to advance, his face suddenly inches from Mactavish's face. "Just what exactly is your fucking problem?"

"My problem? Haven't I made it clear enough yet?" Soap refused to back down, his voice sub consciously increasing in volume. "You beat one of my sergeants to a pulp over this…and you still don't think it's  _my_ problem?"

"Because Roach didn't hit me back, right?" Ghost indicated quickly to his face, his eyes wide and angry.

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place."

"Too late… it  _did_."

"Because of what you and McCoy  _did_."

"That's what you think it was? Me and Roach fighting over some fucking  _woman_?" Riley laughed with disbelief his anger momentarily replaced by sheer amusement. "I don't know what Gary told you…but believe me, I had my reasons. That  _wasn't_  one of them."

"And that justifies it in your world, right?" Soap raised a sarcastic eyebrow.

"Yeah. He said some shit that I wouldn't take from  _anyone_. End of." Ghost shrugged bluntly. "If you've got a problem with my past too, take it up with Shepherd."

"We both know I can't take this to Shepherd without him forcing one of you out of the task force."

"Like hell he would. Shepherd needs a strong team; he's not going to start kicking out members for pathetic shit like this."

"And you really want to test that?" The sudden anger in Soap's voice could not be ignored.

"You threatening me?" Ghost half laughed, although there was a shaken undertone to his voice. He watched Mactavish's face closely, as if weighing up his motives. "So this is what we've come to?"

"I'm your CO."

"Yeah, and my  _mate_ too. Or at least you used to act like it." The lieutenant shook his head, biting thoughtfully on his lip. "That used to count for something 'round 'ere."

"You're wanting bias now?" Mactavish was unable to restrain an almost surprised laugh.

"Please…all I want is a bit of perspective." Ghost rolled his eyes. "You've been fucked up since Jimmy died. But this…-" He shrugged blankly. "This is fucking  _unbelievable."_

"What the hell are you trying to say, Riley?"

"That McCoy aside, what the fuck has gotten into you? We've all lost it at some point…tension release in sparring, whatever. Sure we get a slapped wrist for it but  _this_?" He gave Soap a confused, frustrated look. "What's so different this time?"

"It's more serious…"

"Why? Because some bird is involved? It's just-" Ghost stopped himself mid sentence, his eyes fixed to Mactavish's face. The sudden silence was unnerving, but the look of realisation on Riley's features was far worse, a knowing, self satisfied smile beginning to break out across his lips. He raised one hand, gesturing with it as he finally spoke again. "That's it, isn't it? That's what's changed?"

"I don't know what the hell you're on about."

"Sure you do." Riley scoffed. "It's Lara.  _Has_  to be. She's the only thing that's different."

"Simon…-"

"You're fucking jealous too, right?" The lieutenant let out a dark laugh. "What the hell is  _wrong_  with you people?"

"You don't know what you're saying."

"Don't I? Because the look on your face tells me otherwise. You're shit scared…that because I'm onto the truth now?"

"I swear if you don't fucking shut up…" Soap's words might have tailed off, but his body language didn't, the captain subconsciously using his inch height advantage as much as possible, his fists tightly clenched, every muscle in his body tensing.

"What? Gonna hit me? You could…but that'd be hypocritical wouldn't it?" Riley smirked. "Besides…she's really not worth it."

"Just get out." It took all of the will power he possessed and then some, but Soap managed to suppress his desire to hit Ghost squarely in the jaw, his fists slowly but surely relaxing at his sides. "I don't have time for this."

"But it was all fine when you were laying into me?"

"You're the one who did something wrong." Soap shook his head. "Screw up again, and I'll do something about it."

"Really?" Ghost let out an incredulous laugh, his eyes fixed to Mactavish's. "Even if I make the same mistake again?"

"You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?" Riley smiled thoughtfully. "Tell me something; what exactly did you say to McCoy?"

"That's got nothing to do with you." Soap replied quickly, his tone warning.

"Doesn't it?" The lieutenant laughed. "You must have been pretty shit to her…"

"How the hell would you know?"

"I wasn't expecting her on my doorstep this morning…" Riley was speaking slowly now, his words deliberate, as if he was savouring every second.

"You're lying."

"But you know I'm not. You were hard on her… _too_  hard maybe. Because instead of scaring her shitless, you sent her crawling back for more." He grinned shamelessly. "How's it feel,  _sir_? Knowing you only made things worse in the end?"

What happened next came as a surprise to them both, Mactavish's hands shooting forwards and pushing Ghost backwards, his spine practically bouncing off the wall behind them. The captain's hands were tangled in Ghost's shirt, the fabric creased and almost choking against his throat, Soap's face so close that his words were hot barrages against the lieutenant's bruised skin.

"You fucking pull yourself together, you hear me, Riley? Stop with the games, with the arrogant bollocks that you pull just to keep everyone at arm's length and focus on your  _job._  Understand?"

"You're-"

"I've heard enough." Mactavish shook his head, his face disgusted as his hands wrenched themselves away from Ghost's neck. When he spoke again his voice was serious, but he fought hard to quieten the shaking anger that had emanated from him barely seconds before. "To be blunt, I don't care what you, McCoy or the rest of my men do in your free time. But I swear, if I see, hear or so much as fucking suspect that it's disturbing my team…then I  _will_  go to Shepherd about this. Make no mistake about that."

"We'll see…" Riley managed to splutter, one hand cradling his neck, the skin turning reddened and irritated above the collar.

"Leave."

"I'm going." Ghost shook his head, pushing past him towards the door.

"Oh and Riley…" He'd waited until the last possible minute, the words filling his mouth and feeling weak yet necessary all at the same time.

"What now?"

"The next time you start throwing all that friendship shit at me…just remember one thing." Soap turned round slowly, his voice low. "I considered you my friend too. Still do. Don't throw it back in my fucking face."

" _Whatever_."

With Riley gone, the silence that enveloped Soap's room proved useless in quietening the anger, frustration and other wise indefinable emotions that began to surge through his system. Mactavish tried to swallow it down and blink it back, but the waves of feeling wouldn't subside, anger most prominently bubbling through his system. His fists clenching again, Soap did the one thing that felt logical and lashed out, his knuckles colliding hard against the white washed plaster of the wall in front of him. The impact sent stinging pain through his knuckles, and a sharp jab of pain travelling all along his arm and up into his bicep. His knuckles became hot and then finally the numbness set in, nerves tingling as a few remained unaffected. Mactavish hissed, cradling his hand. His odd enjoyment of the pain made him Riley's words suddenly feel all the more relevant.

He was fucked up, of that much he was well aware. In a lot of ways they all were. But for someone as messed up as Riley to notice it, Soap realised that it must have been more noticeable than he had first thought…

* * *

Ordinarily, most habits were comforting, a taste of routine in an otherwise irregular existence. But as Lara lay limply on Riley's bed, heart hammering in her chest, she realised that this was one habit she was beginning to hate. Especially for it's inexplicably addictive quality.

She'd come back,  _again_ , armed with the same justifications that she'd given herself the night before. She'd sworn to herself that it would be the last time, told herself over and over that she was better than this, that she owed herself more respect. But it was almost as if her body wouldn't listen to what she was trying to tell it, her primal, animalistic side seeming to make the decision for her and choose pure lust and physical pleasure over any kind of emotional security.

It certainly was doing nothing to stop her hating herself.

"You know…" Riley said softly, his voice muffled against the skin of her abdomen. He tilted his head to look up at her, smirking all the while, his face covered with a thin sheen of sweat. "I've been thinking."

"Thinking?" Lara rolled her eyes, her hand giving the side of his head a gentle shove. "Are you sure you're feeling alright there, Riley?"

"Ha fucking ha." The lieutenant grunted. "It's about you."

"Then I don't want to know."

"Please… _nothing_  like that." He was crawling up her body by now, lips hovering inches above hers as his hands supported his weight either side of her head. Hesitating, his eyes dragged across her face for a moment, flickering between her eyes and lips as if he was trying to read her. "I just think I should start putting notches into my bed post…that's all."

"Why the fuck would you do that?"

"To piss you off." The smirk was back, stronger this time. "A new notch for every time  _you_  decide to fuck. Proof that I was right all along."

" _Fuck you_. Are you really that insecure?"

"Just stating fact here." He leant in closer, his mouth brushing against hers with a kind of laziness that could only be post coital, lips plucking at her own. " _You_  keep coming back..."

" _Three times_ , Riley…"

"Sure." He grinned, moving his lips down to just below her jaw and nipping at the skin he found there. "Three for now. But we both know there'll be more."

"Maybe you're due a medical…" She tilted her head away, a feeble attempt at avoiding his advances that had little effect. "…I distinctively remember telling you that this was the last time."

"And?" He supported his weight on his left hand, the other reaching out and catching her chin in a rough, sudden action. His grip was tight, bordering on painful, forcing her to look him in the eye. "Sorry, love. But you've said that a lot."

"I mean it this time."

"Is that so?" Ghost's mouth cracked into a laugh, his right eyebrow quirked in amusement as she wrenched her face from his grasp. "Forgive me for not believing you."

"We both know this can't go on forever."

"True…but why stop it now?" He laughed. "You got a bollocking off Mactavish and still came crawling back for more. I figure you couldn't stop even if you  _tried_."

"Because you're so damned irresistible, right?" Lara scoffed, shifting beneath him. "Playing the cocky bastard really doesn't help, Riley."

"Hey…don't get me wrong, I don't flatter myself into thinking that any of  _this_ …" He ghosted his free hand down her left side, fingertips fluttering across her ribs as if to accentuate the word. "…has anything to do with me. Not really."

"Then why put up with me?"

"I was taught never to turn down a good thing." He grinned, the gesture the embodiment of everything that she hated and yet found so inexplicably attractive about him. "I play by my own rules."

"You really just don't give a shit do you?"

"For a doctor you're not half slow…" The lieutenant laughed sarcastically. " _Finally_ she gets it."

"Were you always this charming, or did you have to practice?"

"I like to think it was a God given gift…" Another, firmer kiss was pressed into her neck followed by an almost ominous scrape of teeth. " _Complaining?_ "

"What time is it?" Lara squirmed again, getting just enough purchase with her good right arm to prop herself up on her elbow, her eyes straining through the gloom to the clock on the far wall.

"…Early." Despite the change in position a knowing hand still found its way to her hip, the calloused thumb rubbing circles across the protruding bone.

"I  _need_  to get back to my room…"

"Door's locked…there's no rush." The hand dipped lower, brushing against the outside of her thigh whilst Riley landed a deliberate suck tactically at the pulse point on her neck.

"Riley…I told you-"

"That there wouldn't be a next time…" The lieutenant smirked against her skin. "Doesn't count if we're just  _continuing_ …right?"

"You have an answer to everything don't you?"

"Pretty much." He shrugged; a laugh soon absorbed by her skin again as he slowly began kissing his way down her torso, his hands holding her thighs in place. "Like I said,  _complaining?_ "

Lara's body had seemingly already decided, her spine beginning to settle back down against the mattress, a hand automatically winding into Riley's mess of hair. It was all so easy,  _too_  tempting, the promise of blank thought and skin tingling sensations suddenly becoming all too inviting. Pure desire, a feeling that she'd once tried to control, but now suddenly felt unable to.

In a single moment of clarity, Lara decided that would have to change.

"No…" It had meant to be forceful, but it came out as more of a hiss, the hand in Riley's hair suddenly pushing him backwards as she squirmed out beneath him. Without hesitation she stood up quickly, busying herself with retrieving her underwear off the bedroom floor rather than having to look at him. "I told you…I've got to get back."

"What's the rush?" The lieutenant looked hardly perturbed, leaning back against the bed, his hands tucked behind his head. "'Ant got someone else waiting have you?"

" _Fuck off_."

"Only asking." His smile was almost sincere. "You're the one who's in a hurry…"

"And?" Fastening her jeans, Lara turned around to face him fully, incapable of stopping a smile from spreading across her features. "Sounds like you're getting a bit attached if you ask me…"

" _Please_ …It would take one hell of a lobotomy for me to even come  _close_  to that."

"Don't tell me…you find it impossible to care, right?" She raised an almost mocking eyebrow.

"You just love pulling all this psychologist bollocks on me, don't you?" The smug smile on Riley's features was a far cry from the look of irritation that she had been hoping for. "You're wasting your breath."

"Is that so?"

"You're not the first to try and you won't be the last."

"Sounds like you've got one hell of a past."

"Haven't we all?" He laughed quickly. "You're in the 141 now. A past is standard issue."

But Lara wasn't listening, her hands preoccupied with scraping her hair back into a tight ponytail, her palms smoothing the remaining shreds of hair into place. The quick sprint back towards the Infirmary was becoming a familiar ritual, and although they had waited until the rest of the base was soundly asleep, Lara still felt the need to leave Ghost's room looking as presentable as possible.

Her shirt was strewn across his chest of drawers, and she made a quick swipe for it, grasping the material firmly in her fist. There was a plastic thud as a couple of Riley's possessions were sent flying by the action and almost automatically Lara found herself standing them back up on the wood. They were mundane, average, bottles of deodorant and hair gel that barely even registered in her mind. Until her hand closed around a smaller bottle, the glass cold in her palm. She rattled it curiously, turning the object in her hands until she could read the label, her right eyebrow instantly lifting involuntarily as she did so.

" _Midazolam?_ " She questioned, holding the bottle of blue pills out towards him.

"What?"

" _Dormicum_ …" Lara rechecked the label herself. "You're taking hypnotics?" She squinted at the label further. "… _Out of date_  hypnotics…"

"Oh…" Riley was snatching the bottle of pills out of her hands almost instantly, placing it back down on the drawers, as far out of her reach as possible. "Was. I  _was_  taking them."

"Who prescribed them?"

"Not Jimmy, if that's what you're thinking." The lieutenant shrugged. "I was given them when I was still SAS."

"And you've  _still_  got them?" She raised an unconvinced eyebrow.

"Course. I'm shit with these fancy names…I kept them so no other doctor would try and shove them down my neck again." He rolled his eyes. "That goes for you too."

"They're not in your file…"

"There's a lot of things that aren't in my file." A dark smile spread across his features when his gaze met hers again. "A little deal I made with Shepherd when I was transferred."

"That's unethical."

"It's what I wanted. I'm fit for duty, that's all anyone has to know."

"And it makes my job damn impossible." Lara shook her head, her voice an angry hiss in an effort to stop herself from yelling. "I know fuck all about you as it is, Riley."

"You know everything you need to. I don't take these anymore…I never want to fucking take them again. They  _aren't_  an issue."

"But the reason you got them in the first place is."

"That has nothing to do with you, with Mactavish…with  _anyone_  in the 141."

"You're wrong…"

"Am I?" The lieutenant let out an almost angry laugh, stepping forwards, his shoulders squared. "Give me one good reason why I should tell you any of this shit…"

"The person who prescribed these did it for a reason. They aren't what I'd call  _weak_ , Riley."

"And?"

"This is serious…I know nothing about this, no psychology reports,  _nothing_. But I'm not an idiot, mate. We're not talking  _Valium_  here. This isn't quick fix medication." She shook her head slowly.

"You fucking deaf? I told you, I'm not on that shit anymore."

"Maybe not…but I don't know where your head's at."

"You're kidding me right?" The lieutenant held back a dark laugh. "This changes nothing. I'm the same Riley, and I'm still damn good at my job. I had this past back when I was busy saving your arse. You weren't so concerned about it then."

"I didn't know-"

"Then fucking forget it again."

"I'm your  _doctor_ , Riley…first and foremost."

"Sure. And when I decide I need a good old cry and a fucking pat on the shoulder I'll know just who to come to." He spat sarcastically. " _Please_ …I'm stronger than that."

"We all have shit to deal with, Simon."

"You're pretending to  _understand_  now?" A smirk pushed across his lips, but there was a permanent, underlying anger to his voice. "I told you…don't even fucking bother."

"You think I haven't seen my fair share?"

"Did I say that?" The lieutenant rolled his eyes. "Just don't even try and relate to me."

"You think you're so bloody strong don't you? Believe me; I can handle anything you throw at me."

"Really?" Ghost gave her an almost triumphant look. "Tell you what; the next time sucking on your pistol suddenly feels like the best idea in the world,  _then_ we'll talk." He shook his head, his face amused in the dim light. "Because believe me…that's the only time you'll ever come  _close_  to relating to me."

"Riley-"

"What?" He nudged past her, striding to the far side of the room where a towel was lying haphazardly across his radiator. "I thought you were leaving?"

"I didn't expect any of this…"

"Makes no difference. Or are you the one getting attached now?"

"I'm not even allowed to ask?"

"You know the drill." The lieutenant shrugged, wrapping the towel around his waist and heading for the door. "I need a shower. Feel free not to be here when I get back."

She should have left, but instead Lara hesitated, the sudden silence of the room feeling almost surreal after their bout. She turned, her eyes drawn back to the bottle of pills beside Riley's bed, a steady hand lifting them closer. A sudden rattle filled the air as she tilted the bottle towards the light of the nearby lamp, squinting at its contents through the orange tinted glass. The bottle was practically  _full_.

Replacing it by Riley's bed, Lara let out a subconscious sigh, her hand sweeping across the top of her head as if it was making thought that little bit easier. From her passing encounters with Ghost she'd managed to con herself into believing that she was starting to know him better, his aggressive bravado occasionally giving way to the person that she thought he truly was. But she'd been wrong. Simon Riley was made up of a mass of layers, so many that she doubted that she would ever get the chance of knowing the man locked up beneath it all. Maybe no one would anymore. Because somehow Lara couldn't help but suspect that even Riley himself had forgotten who that person was himself…


	13. Still Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

Her first thought upon waking had been that she really needed to get more sleep. The second had been that she absolutely  _hated_  Simon Riley.

There was no hiding it. As she stared angrily at her reflection, Lara tilted her head to one side, her eyes fixed to the spot on her neck. A deep, purpling bruise, oval in shape, marbled with streaks of red. She traced her fingers across the damaged skin. A love bite, no,  _lust_  bite. Lara grimaced hard. She clearly remembered making Ghost swear not to mark her. But, just as with everything else, Riley had his own ideas.

It was like being back in school, now surrounded by all the others in the rec room, Lara sat hunched in her chair, flicking idly through her book. She'd tried everything to try and mask the offending bruise, from sickly talcum powder to the last remnants of foundation that lay at the very bottom of her make up bag. The bruise however had hardly faded. In the end she had given up, resorting to slapping some ointment on the mark and wrapping a loose, chequered scarf around her neck. She hoped that she could pass it off as a casual attempt to feminise herself and brighten up her usual drab clothes, but in reality she just felt even more like a prat.

There was a loud laugh from the kitchen area and Lara glanced over quickly, eyes resting on Ghost himself, hisface creased into a familiar smirk. It was raining outside and as a result a cloud of smoke hung within the rec room air, Archer steadily working his way through a pack of cigarettes. A lot of the men hated the habit, but it was rare for anyone to actually confront the sniper about it, today no exception as he continued a low level conversation with Toad and Riley. Everyone else was milling around and chatting, the only two men seemingly absent being Roach and Mactavish. Lara rolled her eyes. The passive smoke disgusted her but at least it stopped her from running into the Captain alone.

"Nice scarf." The cushions dipped beside her and Lara looked up, her eyes suddenly meeting with Meat's. She instantly kicked herself. Of all the men who could have questioned her, it  _had_  to be Greg.

"Umm…thanks." Ignoring him felt to be the best option, Lara quickly averting her eyes back down to the splayed pages of her book.

"Looks nasty though…" The linguist continued, his voice heavily sarcastic. "What did you do? Cut yourself shaving?"

"What?"

"Marks like that don't come out of nowhere." He nodded smugly to her neck, laughing as her hands immediately shot up to pull the fabric of her scarf back up into place, hiding the bruise.

"It was an accident."

"Sure it was." He rolled his eyes, his tone still light and amused. "You're not fooling anyone, you know."

"Who says I'm trying to?"

"Why else you acting so innocent?" He shrugged quickly. "We all know…you might as well accept that and move on."

" _Fuck you_ , Greg."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

" _What?_ "

"Hey…don't get me wrong, I'm not saying it's a bad thing." Greg smirked softly. "I just didn't think it was an option…you know, with you having that whole 'ice queen' thing going on…"

"What the hell are you trying to say?"

"Touchy much?" The linguist mused. "Call it me broadening your horizons."

"I don't know what you've heard…" Lara said slowly, trying to keep her voice low in order to not draw attention. "But it's none of your fucking business."

"Never said it was. But face it, Lara. You really gonna want to stick with Riley forever?"

"What the fuck?" She was standing up before she could stop herself, voice louder, causing a few of the room's conversations to go quiet. The change in atmosphere hit her instantly, the intensity of several pairs of eyes suddenly beginning to burn into her body. "Who the hell do you think you are, Greg?"

"Shouldn't that be who do you think  _you_  are?" The linguist scoffed. "Face it, Lara. You came here with this huge female chip on your shoulder. Now you've fucked it all up and we're not going to look at you in the same way.  _Deal with it_."

She didn't care who was listening now, her sole concern leaving the rec room as quickly as possible. But it wasn't that simple. As she spun around, heading for the door, she was stopped dead in her tracks, her body jerking with momentum from the sudden action. In what had felt like seconds, Riley had made his way to her side; his arms folded seriously and yet the same, smug expression fixed to his features. When he spoke his voice was light, almost amused.

"Got a problem 'ere, mate?"

"You've _got_  to be kidding me." Meat rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat casually. "What are you now? Her fucking knight in shining armour?"

"Please…" Riley scoffed. "As if she needs one. I could just hear you from all the way over there." He nodded abruptly towards the kitchen. "Fancy toning it down a bit?"

"On whose authority?" Meat was standing up, squaring his shoulders almost out of instinct.

"Mine." Ghost replied quickly. "Or have you forgotten the lieutenant bit in front of my name?"

"You're pulling all that rank bullshit then?"

"If I have to." Riley shrugged. "So maybe you should just try shutting your mouth for a change."

"Maybe _she_ should try shutting her legs." The linguist nodded to Lara with a smirk.

"Funny." Ghost let out a soft, amused laugh, stepping closer so that their faces were inches apart. "Maybe someone should have said that to the bitch that brought you into the world?"

"What the fuck, Riley?" Meat lashed out instinctively, his hands pushing against Ghost's chest. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Right now,  _you_." The lieutenant shrugged dismissively. "So treat me with some fucking respect, and we'll forget the whole thing."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you can look forward to licking clean every inch of the showers. And believe me, no one's going to step in and help you  _there_."

"Fuck off." His tone might have still been aggressive but Meat took a step backwards subconsciously, his eyes rolling.

"Think you're missing something there, Greg." Ghost simply replied with an almost sickening smile.

"… _Sir_ …"

"Better." Riley nodded, waving his right hand. "Now get out of my sight."

Lara had remained quiet for the whole exchange in a desperate effort to not make things look even worse for herself, but beneath it all she was seething, her body burning with embarrassment, her mind begging the earth to just swallow her whole and put her out of her misery. The room around her returned to its previous levels of noise, sensing that the fun was over, but this did nothing to soothe her anger, her nails subconsciously biting into her palms. She didn't know who she despised more. Meat for talking to her like that in the first place, or Ghost for stepping in and drawing even more attention to the rumours that had so obviously worked their way around the base behind her back.

"Thanks a fucking lot." She hissed at Riley having just enough restraint to not reach out and slap him across the arm. "I didn't  _need_  that."

"I wasn't doing it for you."

"Then why the hell did you do it?"

"Meat gets too cocky every so often…needs to be brought down a peg or two." The lieutenant shrugged idly.

"Like you?"

"Yeah…except there are fewer people to bring me down." He smirked at her quickly. "Believe me, Bones, the only place I'll watch your back is when we're out on ops. Here, you're on your own."

"You've still made everything ten times worse…everyone  _saw_."

"And?" Riley rolled his eyes. "Fuck 'em."

"Easy for you to say." Lara shook her head, her face disgusted as she stepped past him. "Stay away from me. Ok?"

"Where you going?"

"I've got work to do." She gave him a dark look. "Contrary to popular opinion I'm still more than the base whore."

She knew that it was a mistake, but she did it anyway. In an ideal world, Lara should have simply shrugged off Meat's words and sat back down, proving to everyone else in the rec room that she hadn't given a shit about what he had said. In reality however, Lara had to leave. The realisation that everyone seemed to know about her mistakes was bad enough, Meat's words being the final insult to push her over the edge. But that wasn't the worst part. The harsh reality was that Greg had been  _right_. She'd come into the task force trying to fit in, to be like one of the boys and avoid any unnecessary confrontation. But after promptly sleeping with her XO, how could she ever expect  _anyone_  to treat her the same again?

She really had just fucked it all up.

So distracted by her thoughts, Lara never once saw the figure in the hallway in front of her, her mind focused on leaving the barracks as quickly as possible and little else. They collided with reasonable force as she cleared the corner, two hands instinctively reaching out and holding her shoulders to steady her. The pain in her left arm caused Lara to bite her lip and she looked up, her eyes meeting with Gary Sanderson's.

" _Shit…_ " Roach breathed, removing his hands as soon as he remembered her injury. "Sorry…I didn't think…"

"Do you ever?" Lara rolled her eyes, no longer caring about her shoulder.

"Lara…I-"

"Leave it, Gary." She shook her head, barging past him and heading for the door. "I don't have time for this."

She headed out into the rain decisively, the water no longer falling in torrents having turned into little more than a light drizzle, the kind of soft spray that felt as if it soaked you to your skin in seconds. It was grey, cold, the sun blocked out by heavy cloud, spheres of blurred light surrounding all of the base's floodlights. She begun striding out towards the infirmary, her mind fixed on a hot bath and whatever paperwork she could stomach.

"Lara!" The sudden voice caught her off guard and she stopped dead in her tracks, heavy feet beating off asphalt as Roach ran to catch up with her. In seconds he appeared in front of her vision, tiny, immaculate beads of water clinging to his short, dark hair. He sighed, his eyes well and truly defeated. "Don't do this."

"Do what?" She attempted to step around him but he predicted the action, moving to block her.

"Shut me out."

"I'm not."

"You're avoiding me."

"I don't want to do this now." She shook her head almost desperately. " _Ok_?"

"Fuck that." Roach reached out, a hand gripping her good right shoulder, holding her in place in front of him. He worried his lip, water beginning to shine off his skin. "I'm sorry…ok? For all of it."

"That's all you can say?" She rolled her eyes.

"I mean it…"

"Too bad it's not enough then." Lara let out a petulant scoff. "I  _trusted_  you, the one person in this fucked up place I thought I could actually be honest with…and what do you do?" She laughed darkly. "Well congratulations. Now everyone thinks I'm a slut too. You must be so  _fucking_  proud."

"That's not fair." Roach shook his head, the grip on her shoulder tightening subconsciously.

"Isn't it? You thought it, right? And now you've seen to it that everyone agrees with you." She shrugged off his hand. "Sounds pretty decisive to me."

"Don't give me that …you would never have told me if I hadn't seen Riley that night."

"With good reason!" Lara was unable to stop her voice growing in volume, her tone bitter. "Just look at what's fucking happened since!"

"Do you think I meant for this to happen?" She might have been the first to raise her voice, but Lara was still taken aback when Roach yelled in return, causing her to instinctively take a single step away from him. "Do you genuinely think I went so far as to fucking  _plan_  this?"

"Of course I don't…" She wavered, hanging her head. "But you didn't think…you went in there all guns blazing and _I'm_  the one suffering for it…"

"And if I could take it back I would…" Gary sighed, half turning away from her, his hand messing through his now drenched hair, the short strands plastered to his skull. This time he didn't meet her gaze. "I don't think you're a slut…I never did." His shoulders hunched, he continued to stare at the barracks behind her. "I just wanted Riley to back off."

"Why? To protect me?"

"I guess. Like I said, I'd stopped thinking then…and Riley doesn't exactly make keeping calm  _easy_ …"

"You know him better than me…you have to realise that half the stuff he says is there to antagonise people and nothing more." Lara shook her head, although her voice had softened. "I don't know what he said…believe me, I don't  _want_  to know. But he knows that you give a shit about me…I guarantee that he was just trying to push you."

"He succeeded. But I'm not innocent in this…I did one hell of a lot of pushing back."

"Blatantly…" Lara laughed weakly, indicating to the deep purple that still surrounded Roach's split lip, the edges beginning to swirl brown and yellow. "You two made one hell of a mess out of each other."

"You're telling me."

"Gary…" Her hand resting on his shoulder, Lara paused, waiting until the sergeant finally met her gaze. "I know you were just trying to look out for me…and I appreciate it." She bit her lip. "But I don't want you to keep trying to protect me. I don't  _need_ you to. If I'm strong enough to fire a gun and accept the consequences then I'm strong enough to look after myself." She attempted to soften her words with a smile. "Like I said…I'm not made of glass."

"I know…"

"And what I said wasn't fair. This is _my_  mess…no one else's. I was naïve to think that I could keep it a secret." She shrugged, letting go of him and sighing. "It would have gotten out eventually."

"That supposed to make me feel better?"

"It's the best I've got."

"Then I guess it'll have to do." Roach visibly shivered. "Although I'm freezing my balls off here."

"You and me both." Lara laughed, nudging him quickly. "Come on…we'll finish this inside."

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Don't you?" Lara rolled her eyes, already stepping towards the infirmary. "First, I think some of Jimmy's emergency whisky is necessary." She threw a small grin at him over her shoulder. "It's been that kind of day."

"Aren't you on pain meds?" Roach raised an eyebrow, although he continued to follow her.

"Yeah."

"Then isn't that a bad idea?"

"Completely." Lara smirked, laughing softly. "But when has that ever stopped me, eh?"

* * *

There were times, and they certainly weren't rare, where John Mactavish just wanted to stay in bed, haul the sheets up over his head and forget every single responsibility that rested on his shoulders. That morning had definitely been one of those times, the grey oppressive weather doing nothing to cheer him up. He'd resigned himself to a day in his office, catching up on his neglected work and slowly smoking himself to death. However word that Shepherd was on the base and wanted to speak to him soon put an end to all of that, forcing him to welcome the general into his office with a false smile and feigned interest.

It hadn't exactly improved his mood either.

"Antonov knew exactly what kind of operation he was running." Shepherd stated matter-of-factly, his hands knotted across the desk. "But he still had records…"

"On Makarov, sir?" Soap replied with a curt nod.

"Not exactly. From what we've found, Antonov was telling the truth. There's nothing to suggest that he met Makarov face to face. There's no trace of either of them even having any direct contact." The general nodded slowly, handing a black and white photo of a harsh looking man to the captain. The man was instantly intimidating, his mouth curved almost into a snarl, tattoos clearly spilling up his thick neck and onto the sides of his shaved head. "Instead they worked through this man."

"An intermediary?"

"That's right.  _Grigori Baskov_. Intel suggests that he may have served under Makarov in Chechnya, discharging himself from the armed forces around the same time."

"And our money's on him working for Makarov ever since?"

"Precisely." Shepherd nodded. "It's logical that he would be one of the few men Makarov trusts." He indicated for the captain to take a seat opposite him, sliding a folder across the wood of his desk. "The man's hardly whiter than white."

"You surprise me." Mactavish reached for the dossier that was handed to him, his hands flicking it open immediately. It was thicker than he was used to, paragraph after paragraph of bold black text assaulting his vision. He raised an eyebrow as his gaze found a selection of maps and topological intel. "So he's the link we need to get to Makarov?"

"In short, yes. Unlike Makarov himself, Baskov seems to have no desire to lay low. If what we know is right then he's dug himself into Chelyabinsk…" The General indicated to a town circled red on the map. "…A border-town, ideal for opium trafficking through Kazakhstan into Russia itself."

"From Afghanistan I take it?" Soap looked up momentarily.

"It doesn't matter where he's getting supplies, only that the money he's making is for damned sure ending up in Makarov's hands." Shepherd shook his head. "Minus Baskov's cut of course."

"So we take out Baskov and we put a dent into Makarov's bank account." Mactavish shrugged quickly. "While at the same time taking out one of his closest men?"

"Exactly. Makarov's losing friends and cash…He can't sit back and take it forever." Shepherd smiled, although the action was strained as he leant across the desk, his hands still knotted together tightly, his voice low. "But I want whatever Baskov has on Makarov first. I'd rather take the fight to that bastard then wait for him to come out of hiding."

"And if he does talk…?"

"We don't bargain with criminals, Mactavish." Shepherd sounded almost disappointed. "Baskov is to be neutralised one way or the other. Just try to get him to talk  _first._ "

"Understood, sir."

"I want my best men on this operation, captain.  _No mistakes_. You don't need me to tell you that this operation is delicate to say the least. I want stealth and nothing less."

"Yes, sir."

"Then organise a team and notify me immediately." Nodding decisively, Shepherd stood, edging around the desk so that he was stood beside Soap. He watched him carefully, reading his expression. "You get one shot at this, Mactavish. Don't let me down."

Shepherd seemed to have no time for awkward silences, instead turning on his heel and heading towards the door. For a moment, Soap wavered, opening his mouth to speak and suddenly realising that he wasn't sure how to say the words, his body taking a step forward instead out of instinct. He shook his head, shrugging off any pressure he might have felt and finally allowing himself to speak.

"…Sir?"

"Mactavish?" Shepherd spun around in an instant, although his hand still hovered over the office door handle.

"With respect, I think I should lead this operation.  _Personally_."

"In the field?"

"Yes, sir." Soap nodded, a hand rubbing across his head thoughtfully. "As you said, we have one shot at this. It's not fair for me to rest that responsibility on someone else."

"You're aware that you're still on my injured list, Mactavish?" Shepherd raised an eyebrow. "By rights you shouldn't even be on the base."

"I'm healed enough to work again."

"That so?" The general looked hardly convinced. "No one's asking you to play the god damned hero here."

"Not my intention, sir." Soap shook his head quickly. "I assure you that I'm fit for duty."

"Then we'll see. Either way, you're going to have to pass medical."

"Medical?"

"That wound rattled your brain too?" Shepherd laughed quickly. "You know protocol, Mactavish. To be put back onto the active roster, you need to be cleared for duty.  _Medically_."

"By any of the medical team…?"

"By your  _medic_." The general sighed. "You need to be assessed by someone with field knowledge, in other words, Dr. McCoy. If she tells me you're medically fit then I don't see why you can't lead this operation."

" _McCoy_?...Sir, I don't need-"

"There a problem here, Mactavish?" Shepherd raised a confused eyebrow, stern eyes staring the captain down. "…Or any reason why McCoy  _isn't_  able to examine you?"

"…No, sir."

"Good. Then I'll wait to hear from you." He nodded abruptly, opening the office door. "Just don't take too long. I want to get underway as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir."

The door to his office closing behind the general, Soap let out a deep breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding, his body slumped as he leant against his desk. A weary, slow hand moved up to cradle his skull, his fingers massaging idly at his temples.

 _A medical_ …Soap allowed himself a small, shallow laugh, his head hanging backwards, eyes closed.  _How could I have forgotten?_

* * *

For the first time in what felt like days, Lara McCoy was feeling a little more like herself.

Her talk with Roach had changed very little, but at least it reminded her that she wasn't quite as alone as she thought herself to be, the whisky they'd shared still sitting warmly in her stomach. She was showered, dressed and finally warm, long wet tendrils of hair scraped back with a loose clip to stop them dripping water onto her desk. In her right hand sat a well chewed pen, hovering thoughtfully over her latest report, the mind numbing paperwork feeling oddly welcome due to her current state of mind. She was trapped in her own little bubble, earphones pressed firmly into her ears, her mp3 player sitting dutifully beside a mug of half demolished coffee on the desk beside her.

Her current song was heavy, dark and immersive, a new addition to her music collection from a CD that Toad had recommended to her. Repetitive drum sections assaulted her eardrums, combined with a deeply involving rumbling bass line that swung from one ear piece to the other. Lara smiled again as she sucked thoughtfully on her pen. The music was just what she needed to blot out the rest of the world and especially the men of the 141.

It was for this reason that the repeated knocks to her office door went unnoticed, as did the gruff voice that called out her name repetitively. Even the door opening was unbeknownst to her as Lara continued to work regardless. It wasn't until a hand tapped her on the shoulder that she looked up with a shout, her eyes suddenly resting on a set of less than amused features.

Inside her stomach was flipping with shock so hard that it was threatening to rise up into her throat, her breath catching at her captain's sudden appearance. On the outside however, Lara tried her hardest to maintain a façade of decorum, her features indifferent as she flicked the earphones out of her ears.

"Don't you knock?" It was a quip that felt out of place as soon as she'd said it, Lara trying to hide an ashamed flinch as much as possible. She hesitated as Mactavish continued to watch her, his face now less angry and more passive, sleeved arms folded across his chest. "I mean…it is customary."

"I knocked…and  _yelled_." The captain's voice gave very little away.

"Right." Nodding, Lara quickly dropped her pen, her eyes unintentionally looking the captain up and down. He seemed to be waiting for something, the silence between them feeling so brittle that she felt pressured into speaking. "Look…I didn't expect you to come back so-"

"I'm not here to talk." He replied almost bitterly, cutting her off mid sentence. "I'm here medically."

"Oh…right, I see." She cleared her throat, more to buy herself a little time than because she needed to. "Then how can I help?"

"I need you to clear me for duty."

"Sorry?"

"A  _medical_ …" The captain said slowly, as though he was speaking to a small child.

"I got that bit." Lara rolled her eyes. "But you shouldn't be up for a medical for at least another few weeks."

"No time." Soap shook his head. "I need to be fit for duty  _now_."

"Then with respect, sir, tell that to your body. Because I can't clear you unless you are actually  _fit_  for duty."

"On what grounds?"

"It's unethical. It's dangerous. And more importantly…I'm a medical professional." She sighed. "I can't lie about this."

" _Professional?_ " The dark, amused edge to his voice was enough to rile her, Soap holding his arms tighter to his chest. " _Fine_. Take this as an order, then. Give me a clean bill of health."

"Your rank changes nothing." Lara shook her head, resisting the urge to add  _'for once'_  onto that sentence. "I won't be ordered…or  _blackmailed_  into letting you get yourself killed."

"That's not your problem."

"I think it is." Lara rolled her eyes, her temper already beginning to flare. "The last time I checked being a good military doctor required patients who are actually  _alive_ …sir."

"You watch your tone…"

"And you shouldn't watch yours?" McCoy shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir, but I won't let you talk to me like this. I'm not some mindless slave who you can bully into doing anything to appease you." She watched as what she hoped was realisation dawned upon Mactavish's features, the captain's posture wavering slightly as she continued to look at him. His lips remained tightly pursed together, but something in his eyes had softened slightly, their harsh glare lessened. Lara felt her own anger subside in turn, however much she knew it shouldn't. "Look…I'll examine you…at least, change your dressing. Ok?" She indicated over to the examination table at the far end of the room, watching as the captain nodded in compliance. "Take a seat…you know the drill by now."

As she shrugged off her sling and reached for her gloves, Lara heard the characteristic sound of a belt being unbuckled slowly, the soft rustle of denim dropping to the floor. For a millisecond her thoughts returned to the nights before, her frantic hands struggling to no avail with Riley's overly complex belt buckle, her cheeks flowing crimson with embarrassment from her difficulty. Lara swallowed hard, pushing the images from her thoughts. Right now, Ghost was the last thing she needed on her mind. Thing's were complex enough.

Kneeling in front of Soap, Lara busied herself with removing the dressing as gently as possible, the wound revealed to her inch by inch. She let out a small grunt of approval at the sight of it, the affected skin pinker this time showing that it was healing well, the wound no longer having the intensity and anger that it had once possessed.

"How's the pain?" It was a necessary question but one that did nothing to defuse the tension in the air.

"Bearable."

"With or without medication?"

"Without." Mactavish shuddered slightly as her fingers brushed against the outside of the wound. "Medication would allow me to work."

"Correction…it'll just make you less aware of the pain in order to work."

"Same thing isn't it?"

"No. And you'll  _heal_  slower because of it." She shook her head slowly, deciding on a lighter bandage due to the improved state of the wound. "Ideally you still need rest."

"Who said we're living in an ideal world?"

"A little defeatist, don't you think?

"It'll still heal." Soap's voice was flat, almost lifeless. "It'll get better.  _Eventually_."

"You're too stubborn for your own good." Lara rolled her eyes, pressing the dressing gently against his skin. Her mouth and brain were at loggerheads as to whether she should go on speaking, but in the end her mouth won the battle. "…This is about guilt, right? You wanting to get back out there?"

"What?"

"You told me that you hated sitting back here and still sending men out to risk their lives." Lara sighed, securing the dressing. She didn't dare look up at him, but she could sense the tension in his body at her words. "That's what this is about, yeah?"

"…You remember that?"

"I listen." She shrugged weakly, still not meeting his gaze. "Part of being a good doctor."

"It's  _part_ of it." Mactavish stated almost bluntly.

"And what's the other part?"

"Realising that it's doing me more damage staying behind." Soap half murmured. "Like it or not, my men are my responsibility. If they're risking their lives then it's the least I can do to risk mine too."

"That's terrible logic."

"Maybe, but it's what I live by."

"I get that…at least." Finally Lara found the ability to look upwards, rocking back on her heels to look at him properly. "Guess I must  _really_  be losing it."

"Or you're just starting to fit in."

"That too."

She'd planned on standing up and prescribing him stronger painkillers, but when a strange hand flicked out towards her face, Lara stopped stock still, her weight still resting completely on her heels. In a slow, almost measured gesture, Soap's fingers reached out, grazing ever so lightly across the skin of her neck, his features pensive all the while. Lara fought the urge to blush. The knowledge that he was staring at the mark that Riley had given her was beyond mortifying and yet she did nothing to stop him.

"Why Riley?" The question seemed so random that Lara wasn't sure she'd heard him right at first, her features quirking into a confused look. However, by how Soap continued to stare at her she soon realised that she owed him some kind of response.

"... _John_ -"

"No. Tell me why…"

"…Because for everything he isn't…at least he's honest." The hand moved away as quickly as it had come, but Lara continued to speak. "I know he doesn't care about me…and I don't  _want_  him to. It's simpler that way."

"And you say my logic is bad."

"Despite what you think I was never out to screw things up on purpose." She shook her head. "I'm still adjusting here…stumbling around in the dark and making mistakes… But I never intended to make waves…not like this."

"You didn't think."

"No, I  _didn't_." She made sure that he was looking her in the eye, her voice serious. "I've done a lot of that recently… Everything I said to you wasn't fair…I shouldn't have-"

"I don't want an apology." The captain replied gruffly. "I said enough myself."

"You had a job to do."

"And sometimes I forget that command requires a little humanity." He shook his head, staring at his wound now rather than at her. "I can't pretend it's going to be all happy families and friendly pats on the back…because it isn't." Slowly he met her gaze again. "But we  _can't_  carry on like this…All this tension and bad blood." He shook his head softly. "It's as damaging as anything else. And with Shepherd throwing us into riskier ops practically  _blind_ …" He hesitated, worrying his lip. "We don't need it."

"You're right…as always." Lara sighed, defeated.

"Then we agree on something, at least."

"Yeah."

"Good." Mactavish stood up quickly, his hands already pulling his jeans back into place before Lara could say anymore, the medic straightening up herself. She turned her back on him, glad of the emotional respite it gave her as she stepped towards her desk and reached for her notebook.

"I'm prescribing you stronger painkillers." She made a quick note onto the pad of paper before heading for a nearby cupboard, unlocking it with a set of keys that she kept attached to her belt. "They'll make you more comfortable."

"Thanks."

"I'll also send Shepherd a report on your condition…" She added, although she didn't turn around to face him. "…Giving you dispensation for this operation."

"…What?"

"I'm clearing you." She turned around slowly, finally meeting his gaze. "Against my better judgement…but still."

"Why?"

"Because I get what you said to me." She shrugged softly. "If you honestly think you aren't going to be a liability then who am I to stop you? Just understand the medical risks."

"I do."

"Then there's little more I can do." She sighed, absent mindedly pushing a few wet strands of hair behind her right ear. "I'm just sorry I can't go with you." A weak smile split across her features as she indicated to her left shoulder. "I, unlike you,  _know_  my limits."

"A fair point." Mactavish nodded to her quickly, allowing himself a brief smile. "I… _appreciate_ this, Bones."

"So you should. But I swear if you get yourself killed out there…" Her voice tailed off, her body slumping slightly in defeat as the words escaped her. "…Justbe careful, alright?"

"Always am."

"Good." She gave him another strained smile, closing the distance between them and handing the pills over to him quickly. "I'll make sure my report gets to Shepherd as soon as possible." Finding herself nodding again, Lara moved round to the other side of her desk, a gesture that she hoped would show Mactavish that their conversation was finished and that he was free to leave. However, he didn't, and as Lara sat down behind her desk, Soap remained, an awkward silence building to an almost piercing climax around them. Lara cleared her throat, busying herself with replacing her sling so that she didn't have to meet his gaze. "Was there anything else, sir?"

"No…I just…" The captain shrugged, the pills in his hand rattling from the action. "I'm just-" He paused, sighing heavily, as though his brain had finally caught up with his mouth and reprimanded it for being so foolish. "…I'm sorry, ok?"

"I thought we weren't apologising?"

"I didn't mean for that." He shook his head resolutely.

"Then what for?"

"That much should be obvious." Soap laughed softly, the action more out of exasperation at himself than any real amusement. "It doesn't matter. Just watch yourself. The sooner this blows over, the better for all of us." He nodded to her in a gesture of brief thanks. "McCoy."

With Soap gone, Lara immediately tried to push her thoughts back to her work, her fingers tapping quickly at her laptop as she logged in. But it was a hopeless act, her head hanging as soon as she brought Mactavish's medical file up onto the screen. It was bad enough that the man himself was so intent on presenting himself as an enigma, his words always feeling precise and measured. But what was worse was the fact that everything seemed to be so  _simple_  for him. His life was compartmentalised, divided equally into the good and the bad. It was just him and his command, as it would always be, in his own words any real emotion he felt towards Lara needing to be swept aside because it got in the way. She sighed softly. He wanted everything to just blow over and she agreed with him that it needed to. However achieving that from her perspective was no easy task.

Lara closed her eyes, wishing that like Soap, her world could be so clear cut, so black and white. As it was, she was lost amongst several shades of grey. And unfortunately grey was something that Lara simply just didn't know how to handle…


	14. Point of Authority

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

When he'd started his career, a lot had seemed to come to John Mactavish naturally. He'd discovered that his tall, sturdy build was ideal for the gruelling physical drills, whilst his relatively sharp mind gave him a good understanding of tactics. After a little training it had been established that he had a half decent aim whilst his cool head meant that he was the ideal candidate for further explosives training. In short, he'd thought that army life was going to be a walk in the park.

Patience, however, had never really been his strong point. The 20 year old who had signed on, eager to see some excitement and prove himself had quickly realised that a lot of his new, military lifestyle would be spent waiting, either on the base or out in the field. It was an odd contrast in pace, moments of sheer panic and adrenaline counteracted with hours spent waiting for orders, sitting at a long forgotten outpost. As he'd advanced, Soap had grown up and learnt to accept it for what it was, but that still didn't mean that he _liked_  waiting. After all, the waiting in an operation was the most dangerous part, the likeliest time for you to lose your concentration and start making mistakes. Mistakes that you simply could not afford to make. As Price had once so eloquently put it; that was all lesson  _one_.

"Two guys out on stag…" Across the dim room, Riley spoke softly, half into his radio, half speaking to Soap himself. He nodded casually to the window in front. "7am… These guys are like fucking clockwork. Must be waiting for a delivery or something."

"Weaponry?" Soap raised an eyebrow, sitting up from his sleeping mat.

"Assault rifles…" Ghost looked up from his scope. "Just like the last lot."

At first sight, the operation looked to be an absolute nightmare. Chelyabinsk, Grigori Baskov's chosen base of operations was a thriving, Russian city, filled with high rise buildings and over a million inhabitants. However, upon closer examination, the situation had been kind to them. Due to the nature of his work, Baskov had been forced into the industrial area of the city, holing himself up in a disused warehouse. The crowded, urban landscape both helped and hindered him. On one hand the densely packed industrial buildings around the warehouse acted as perfect camouflage for his trafficking operation. However, on the other they gave Soap and his men the cover they needed for their own surveillance to go unnoticed.

"They're distracted…" Ghost spoke out again, this time speaking to Soap alone, the Captain busy threading his earpiece back into his ear. "If we needed a fucking sign, this is it." He reached up to his own earpiece, pressing onto it lightly. "Charlie team… give me a Sit Rep, over."

" _Fuck all over here, mate_." Archer replied. " _Sentry we were watching has headed round to the north entrance…_   _Guess that's where it's all gonna kick off_."

"Any sign of the HVT?"

" _Negative. Must be bloody camera shy._ "

"Copy that." Glancing up from his scope again, Ghost gave Soap an expectant look, something that still managed to be conveyed through the wool of his mask. "We should move in."

"No." Mactavish shook his head, cautiously moving over to Riley's side so that he could get a clear view of the situation. Far below them was the target warehouse, the two sentries returning inside after their patrol. "We  _wait._ "

"We've been waiting two fucking days." Riley moaned. "We know their patrols inside out. A delivery is the perfect distraction… we can get in there while they're preoccupied."

"And then what?" Soap sighed. "It's too unpredictable."

"Unpredictable means they'll make more mistakes."

"And so will  _we_." Mactavish rolled his eyes, lifting his hand in a gesture to silence the lieutenant. "They're on red alert down there… we wait it out and go in tonight as planned." He gave Riley a measured look. " _Understood?_ "

"… _Sir_."

"Get some rest anyway." Soap practically barked, his voice authoritative as he glanced over his shoulder at the solitary sleeping mat that lay pressed up against the far wall. For the past two days the disused office around them had been their base of operations, the air cold and musty, walls dampened with mould from the cracks in the ceiling. It was hardly comfortable, but they'd both dossed in fair worse places, the presence of four at least sturdy walls around them feeling almost luxurious in comparison.

Kneeling in front of the window, Mactavish readjusted the scope, the planks that boarded the windows providing the perfect surface to rest the gun against. Adjusting his position, he ignored the stab of pain in his thigh, a soft hiss the only thing to leave his lips as he tried to shift his weight comfortably onto the cold floor. In an almost well drilled routine, he grabbed a chocolate bar from the Bergen containing their supplies, tossing one casually in Riley's direction at the same time. It might not have been the most conventional breakfast in the world, but right then it was fast and calorific, the two things both their metabolisms were silently screaming for.

The 141 didn't care about personal grudges, and even though the thought of spending days cooped up in a confined space with his estranged best friend hardly thrilled him, Mactavish had to accept that above all else, Riley was  _still_  his partner. They were expected to work together on missions like this, just as much as Toad and Archer were expected to function as a sniper team anywhere else. In reality, Mactavish had the power to pair himself with any one of his men, but in practice he knew that it would have been unwise to pick anyone but Riley. After all, he'd heard every single rumour circulating the base concerning Lara and Ghost, and by no means did he intend on making everything ten times worse by suddenly breaking his close working relationship with the lieutenant for no apparent reason.

Besides, against it all, they'd always been a damn good team.

They'd only been passing acquaintances in the SAS, Soap a member of A squadron whilst Ghost belonged to B squadron. The two barely mixed as it was a long standing regimental joke that the two groups had polar personalities, A squadron being the quieter, more methodical men, whilst the soldiers of B squadron were more brash and outgoing. Either way they were all formidable, accomplished soldiers, and all jokes aside, the sense of regimental coherence, even among brief acquaintances was incredibly strong.

When they'd joined the 141, there'd been instant respect between them, and it hadn't taken long for Soap to favour Riley as his XO and partner in operations. Aside from his abilities as a soldier and his almost unwavering logic, Riley had one quality that made him stand out above the rest of the task force. He was honest, often brutally so, and despite his years in the army he hadn't appeared to have lost his ability to question any commands he considered suspect. It was a quality that Soap began to unintentionally rely on. After all, in the field he didn't need a subordinate, he needed an equal, and Riley was more than ready to give him that.

Of course, Riley's outspoken nature was known to get him into a few tight spots within the task force, something Soap was well used to dealing with. However, this was the first time in his memory that he could remember being directly involved himself…

"Used to be a time when you'd listen to me." Riley's voice erupted into the air suddenly, catching Mactavish off guard, his eyes momentarily leaving the window and flying back towards the lieutenant. Ghost himself was now laid on the sleeping mat, propped up on one elbow, his mask removed so that he could eat. Soap instantly made a point of avoiding his knowing glare, the sudden absence of his mask and sunglasses making it a great deal more potent. " _What_? Does me fucking our medic really change how good I am at my  _job_?"

" _Ghost_ …" Soap shook his head slowly, turning away. He was surprised that the topic hadn't come up sooner, but now that it had he wanted nothing to do with it. "I don't want to hear this."

"No…'cos it's easier that way right? To just ignore it?" He rolled his eyes. "Well too fucking bad. I risk my neck enough without having to walk on eggshells around  _you_." He watched Mactavish carefully, the silence almost demanding a reply. He received none. "You've acted bang out of order with all of this… you fucking know you have."

"And you  _haven't_?"

"Did I say I was perfect?" The lieutenant scoffed.

"You seem to think you're innocent."

"And you seem to think you can get away with ramming words down my neck." Riley shook his head, his tone frustrated. "This isn't a fucking apology… I shouldn't have to give you one."

"And what? I should have to apologise to you?" Soap laughed, flashing a quick, defiant glance back in Riley's direction. " _Not_  gonna happen, mate."

"When have we  _ever_  apologised?" Ghost had a point there. Any other time they'd exchanged harsh words, whether in the field or back at base, they'd never seen fit to apologise, simply choosing to chalk the confrontation up to experience and move on. "Or are you changing those rules too now?"

"Don't be so bloody petty…"

" _I'm_  being petty?" Riley scoffed. "'Course I am. Because let's face it, its not like I'm the one making a fucking drama out of  _nothing_ …"

"What the hell do you  _want_  from me, Ghost?" Soap spat, refusing to look his XO in the eye. "You can be as aggressive as you like… I'm not going to change my views on this."

" _Sure_ … bias will really do that to you." Riley rolled his eyes.

"Bias has nothing to do with it."

"I think we both know you're lying… so drop the fucking innocent act."

"So that's what you want is it?" Soap shook his head. "You're pathetic."

"What I  _want_ …" Riley spoke slowly, leaning forward as if the gesture alone gave his words more meaning. "… Is for you to pull that fucking stick out of your arse long enough to realise that who I fuck is  _my_ business." He tilted his head to one side, eyeing the Captain carefully. "It's got nothing to do with you, with Meat or with Roach."

"If you chose to fuck someone outside of the 141 it wouldn't  _be_  my problem…"

"See? That's where you're just not getting it... All you need to give a shit about is that I turn up to training, I do my job and I don't fucking miss when it's your arse on the line." Riley let out a dark laugh. "I'm a soldier through and through. That used to be enough for you to trust me."

"Who says I don't?" Soap shook his head. "Believe me... if I didn't you  _wouldn't_  be sitting here."

"An operation without your XO? Yeah, that'd be interesting."

"Just leave it, Ghost." His patience waning, Mactavish kept his voice low and measured. " _Ok_?"

"You want to try and play the bigger man? Then fine." The lieutenant shrugged. "But it's not hard to see where your loyalties lie.  _Really_."

"Show me a little respect and I might repay that with a bit of loyalty." Turning slowly, Soap gave him a deliberate look, the eyes that met his still strong and defiant. It was a look the Captain both knew well and refused to be intimidated by. "Until then you follow orders and do what you were trained to do. You want me to still believe that you can do your job? Then fucking  _prove_  it to me."

Ghost had opened his mouth to reply but he was interrupted by a short, sharp burst of static on both of their radios, Soap's attentions immediately drawn back to the his surveillance. As quickly as it had arrived the static disappeared, leaving Roach's controlled tones in both of their ears.

" _Alpha team, do you copy?"_

"Here, Roach. What have you got for me?"

" _There's movement at the north entrance… Black van just pulled up… some kind of advertising scrawled all over it in blue. Group of maybe five tangos starting to unload."_

"Any sign of Baskov?"

" _Negative, sir…"_ Mactavish let out a low level sigh.  _"No, wait. Possible HVT approaching… It's him. Repeat, I have eyes on Baskov…"_

"You're sure?"

" _Positive… Our intel is solid."_  There was a pause and something inaudible in the background.  _"I have a clear shot."_

"That's a negative. No shots, take down or otherwise. Understood?"

" _Copy that."_

"Keep on him… if he leaves this warehouse then I want to know about it."

" _Understood, sir."_

"If he leaves we're  _fucked_." Ghost smirked, although the discontent was clear in his voice as he leant back against the sleeping mat. "What's to say he won't wait for the delivery to go through and then just piss off?"

"Nothing. But I'm not risking my men unless I have to."

"If we lose him then Shepherd's gonna want your head."

"And he can have it." Soap rolled his eyes exasperated. "Let me handle Shepherd. If we screw this up, believe me; I know the consequences."

* * *

Their plan was hardly a leap of faith, but as always, it hinged on one thing only. The quality of their intel. So far the information Shepherd had supplied them with had served them well, leading them to Baskov's warehouse whilst also confirming that he was overseeing the operation personally. However, their operation relied on so much more than that information alone. They'd spent hours in the operations room back at base pouring over blue prints of the warehouse and nearby buildings, weighing up its weaknesses and entry/exit points. In the field, they'd had just as much work to do again, taking their time over establishing the more practical aspects of their operation. As with every other mission they embarked on, everything that could be double checked was to be done so meticulously.

The mission from there was relatively simple. They were to infiltrate the base, neutralising Baskov's men whilst moving up and securing Baskov himself. From there it all became crystal clear. They would extract intel from Baskov by any means possible, before neutralising him too, thus neatly tying up their last loose end and leaving Makarov short of another influential friend.

For a stealth operation it was Soap's unwritten rule that a balance had to be found between sending in enough men to get the job done efficiently, whilst keeping the numbers low enough to lower their chances of detection. For an operation this size, a patrol of six men had seemed to be the best option, Toad and Archer remaining in their vantage point as contingency against Baskov's unlikely escape. From there Roach, Ozone, Ghost and Soap himself would infiltrate the base as two teams, each assigned to one entry point. It would be a clean, surgical operation, and by the end of the night, Soap was determined to have the intel he had promised and hopefully an exfil to a base with central heating and running water.

When darkness descended that night, bringing with it a cold chill and an almost damp quality to the air, the time for planning had finally been over. They'd suited up, checked and rechecked all their weaponry and advanced silently on the warehouse. If all went to plan, Baskov and his men wouldn't know of their presence until they were quite literally on top of them.

"Charlie team, do you have my position, over?"

" _We've got you, Hotel Six. You're all clear."_ Came Toad's confident reply.

"Roger that." Soap nodded quickly to where Ghost was knelt beside him, the wire fence in front of them cut just enough to allow them to climb through. "Ghost, on your go."

They moved into the alleyway quickly, a crouched run soon seeing them at the warehouse walls, their backs pushed against the brick. To their left they could hear the distant, muffled conversations of the two sentries at the position they'd staked out, the two men making their nightly patrols, cigarettes in hand as they walked the perimeter of the warehouse. They weren't visibly armed but from their surveillance both Soap and Ghost knew that they were at least carrying side arms. The voices were getting closer. With a silent nod, Soap pressed back further into the wall, his fingers instinctively curling around his combat knife. If they'd timed this perfectly, then they were in just the right position to take both guards out simultaneously.

It was now or never. Seconds after the guards had cleared the corner, Soap lunged forward, his gloved left hand instinctively clamping across his victim's mouth whilst dragging his head back at the same time, the throat clearly exposed. There was no hesitation as Soap dragged his knife across the vulnerable skin sharply, repeating the action until the body in arms became limp, leaden and silent. With fresh blood still shining off his black combat attire, he sheathed his knife quickly, before dragging the man backwards into the alleyway, concealing it behind two large, graffiti covered rubbish bins.

" _Be advised, Bravo team moving to breach, over."_ Ozone's voice was quiet over the radio as Ghost and Soap moved into position by the metal shutters that lead into the first of the warehouse's loading rooms.

"Alpha team in position." Ghost gave Soap a quick nod, crouching by the shutter handle, a flash bang clasped in his right hand. "Flash out."

There was the characteristic muffled bang of the stun grenade before he pulled up the shutters, Soap covering Riley with his suppressed ACR. In the darkness two men were staggering blindly, their rifles clasped firmly in their hands. A couple of measured shots sent them tumbling to the floor before they could shout, their bodies forming crumpled, unnatural shapes on the cement floor.

"They've got radios…" Riley stated bluntly, knelt beside one of the bodies, his hands dragging the offending item out of one of the men's pockets. He handed the object to Soap quickly.

"Baskov's more paranoid than we thought." Mactavish shook his head. "Anything else?"

"Nothing of interest." Ghost patted down the body, letting out a soft laugh when he pulled a small, clear sachet out of the man's breast pocket, a crystalline white powder visible within. "Though this bloke's managed to score." He dropped the packet back down onto the man's chest with distaste. "Talk about an employee discount…"

"Let's move up." Mactavish was already headed for the doorway on the far wall, his rifle steady in his hands. He leant against the wall beside it, waiting for Riley to follow suit. "Central stairwell shouldn't be too far… keep an eye out."

" _Sir._ "

In a slow, cautious movement, Ghost turned the door handle, sliding the door open with barely any noise. The corridor that greeted them was empty and silent, a side door off shooting into the adjacent loading room, with another larger, rusted door that they assumed lead to the central stairwell up to the second level. With a calculated nod at the side door, they both moved up, Ghost readying another flashbang.

It was the same drill as before, only made more hazardous by the narrower doorway into the second loading room. This time there were three men staggering around disorientated but they were cut down with ease, their final breaths a combination of chokes and gurgles as the bullets ripped into their torsos, limp arms swaying back and forth from the impact. Once silenced, they were able to take stock, checking the room over clearly for anything they might have missed. Unlike the last room, this one appeared to be some sort of make shift dormitory, sleeping bags lying around haphazardly, whilst an upturned table lay in the far corner, playing cards, beer bottles and dirty magazines now strewn across the floor.

If his body hadn't been rushed with the mixed fog of painkillers and adrenaline, it might have occurred to Soap that things were progressing smoothly, _too_  smoothly. As it was, he carried on regardless, checking the men over to make sure that none of them had a positive ID for Baskov.

He heard it the instant they turned their backs to leave. At first it was just a simple crackling, a similar noise to a radio being tuned. And then the one sound that he really didn't want to hear,  _speech_. A burble of hurried Russian emanating from one of the dead man's radios. There was a pause, and then more speech, louder this time. Another pause. By the time the voice called again, it was sounding heavily frustrated and concerned. Soap made the diplomatic decision of slamming his rifle butt down hard onto the radio, silencing it almost instantly. It certainly wasn't going to make their problems go away, but at least they wouldn't have to listen to anymore of its frantic chatter.

" _Bollocks!_ " Riley hissed, managing to sum up both of their thoughts quite eloquently. He glanced back at Soap, his eyes constantly shifting from the Captain back to the door, a couple of distant yells already becoming audible from other parts of the warehouse. "What now?"

"Bravo team, do you copy?" Soap replied with a call on the radio, pressing his earpiece into his ear with his right hand. "…Bravo team do you-"

" _I read you, Hotel Six…"_  Roach replied abruptly, cutting him off.  _"But it looks as if we're in the shit here_."

"What's your status?"

" _We've made it through into the main warehouse area… but there's a lot of activity… five plus tangos. Something's spooked them."_

"Radio chatter caught us out…" Mactavish rolled his eyes, the hand gripping his gun becoming subconsciously tighter. "We need to get to Baskov before he catches on."

" _Copy that."_ There was a pause, rustling the only thing to be heard through the radio. " _Stay on him. We'll sit tight and keep them busy here."_

"That's a tall order, mate…"

" _We've got a tactical advantage and right now I don't see any other options."_  Roach replied bluntly.  _"It's our only chance."_

"Roger that. But watch yourselves… if things get too hot, no one's going to blame you for getting the hell out of there."

" _Understood."_  There was another brief pause.  _"We're going loud. Good luck."_

There was no room for cautious, measured movement now as they dashed for the central stairwell, Riley the quicker and less encumbered of the two. The distant yells around them had intensified and become more panicked. The sound of gunfire soon followed, echoing through the metallic frame of the building as presumably Roach and Ozone came under fire. The noise only served to spur Mactavish on, and he bit back the burning in his thigh, the impact of running causing a kind of pain which even the painkillers couldn't completely mask.

There was more shouting, although this time it was closer, angry words bouncing off the walls of the corridor around them. A rally of gunfire sprayed the area above his head as Soap reached the top of the stairwell, Ghost already taking cover behind one of the walls that lead out onto a small corridor. In front were two men, taking cover behind some stacked crates, assault rifles blind firing in their general direction. There was a pause in the firing and Soap made his move, dashing to cover whilst the men reloaded.

Peering around the corner, Soap levelled his ACR, training it on one of the positions where one of the men was hiding. He could hear them yelling to each other, their guns clinking as they slotted in a fresh magazine. An arm appeared out of cover and Soap fired, the resulting shout of pain telling him that he'd managed to hit his target. The other man, clearly panicked by the action strayed too far out of cover and Ghost picked him off easily, a stream of bullets making their way up his body and up into his neck. With both their weapons trained on the last, now injured man, it was only a matter of time, both of them squeezing their triggers without hesitation as soon as he leant out of cover.

They moved up, clearing the offices on either side of the office, finding each one of them empty of everything but a few pieces of rotten furniture and a couple of abandoned weapons. At the last doorway, they paused, both giving each other a silent nod and preparing themselves to breach. By this point it was obvious that if Baskov was anywhere, then he would be holed up in the next room with an unknown amount of weaponry. They reloaded, their hearts racing from the adrenaline now coursing through their systems. Grigori Baskov was ex-Spetsnaz, and that made underestimating him a  _huge_  mistake.

The office that greeted them was uncharacteristically quiet, not the loud, angry confrontation that they had been expecting. They instantly split up, covering each other's backs as they progressed further into the room, their guns levelled and ready for any sudden movement. As it was, they found none.

He should have known the instant a heavy, metallic smell assaulted his nostrils, but Soap refused to believe it until he saw the evidence himself, stepping closer to the mismatched, worn sofa at the far end of the room. The white washed wall behind it was splattered with blood; a body sitting slumped against the cushions. Soap drew nearer, reaching out and pulling what remained of the head backwards. To his disgust it was what they'd be working towards. A positive ID on Grigori Baskov.

" _Shit_!" Ghost screamed, his leg kicking out in frustration and knocking a nearby pile of empty crates flying. He ran a hand across the top of his mask, his body swaying from side to side. "… The fucking  _coward._ "

"We were too slow." Soap shook his quickly, although when he spoke again his voice was soft, too slight for even Ghost to pick up on. "… _I_ made the wrong fucking call."

" _Alpha team…"_  His radio suddenly jumped into life, shaking Mactavish from his thoughts instantly.  _"Hotel six, do you copy?"_

"Here, Roach. What's your status?"

" _Situation's under control. Took a few of them down and the rest bolted. Do you have Baskov?"_

"We have him, but he's not going to be much use to us."

"…  _What?"_

"He's dead, Roach."

"Stupid fucker decided to suck on his pistol." Riley interjected.

"… _Shit."_

"It's too late now. Link up with Charlie team for exfil."

" _What about you?"_

"We're checking for intel first… If we come back empty handed, Shepherd's going to want my bollocks on a platter."

" _Copy that. We'll rendezvous with the others and wait for you."_

"Fucking told you…" Riley said bluntly, stepping forwards and beginning to search Baskov's body, his hands patting across the pockets of his jeans and shirt. He looked up; his gaze catching Soap's, his tone slightly lighter than it had been seconds before. "But let's see if we can find something to save your arse anyway…"

Mactavish's reply was a soft groan, a hand moving up to slowly cradle his temple. Sub consciously his eyes flickered down to Baskov's face, relatively intact in comparison with the large part of his skull that was now missing towards the back of his head. His eyes were rolled back, still and lifeless, but still the dead man's expression seemed to be taunting him. Soap rolled his eyes. If dead men could smile, then Grigori Baskov was practically  _grinning_ …


	15. Positive Tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

" _I am all that I'll ever be_

_When you – lay your hands_

_Over me but don't go weak on me now_

_I know that it's weak_

_But God help me I need this."_

_**'Bed of Lies' by Matchbox Twenty**   
_

* * *

Sometimes, no matter how hard you wanted to achieve something, it just didn't feel physically possible. For Lara McCoy, writing home had quickly become just one of those things, the computer monitor seemingly taunting her with another less than adequate email draft. Sighing heavily, she quickly pressed backspace, watching as the words she'd spent the past half an hour on abruptly melted away before her eyes. It had all be too forced and positive, the 'everything's fine' style that her mother used to receive whilst her dad was posted abroad. Lara wasn't so naïve to think that she could fool her mother any more than he ever could.

The cursor flickered mockingly against the great expanse of white document and Lara instantly clenched her teeth, wracking her brains for any details of her new life that she could divulge safely. Finding little, she began to type, deciding that a mundane enough question about her niece was as good a place as any to start.

"Lara!" The word was a rude awakening, pure and simple, McCoy jumping out of her skin at the harsh, yet painfully familiar tone. She let out a low level groan, a hand moving up to her forehead and rubbing against the skin gently, as if a sudden headache had descended on her at the sound alone. Right then it was the last thing she needed, her mouth making the conscious decision that it would be far easier to ignore Ghost and stay silent than anything else.

"For fuck's sake, Bones…" Riley's voice was back, his fist thundering against her office door, the wood shaking on its hinges. Lara's eyes shot to the door handle, watching as it clinked as he tried to open it, the inbuilt lock preventing him from entering the room. A heavy sigh was just audible from behind the door. "… I  _know_  you're fucking in there…"

Lara's hands hovered across the keys of her computer, her head shaking in silent exasperation. She'd made one fatal error. Simon was certainly a lot of things, and persistent was definitely one of them…

"What the fuck, Riley?" She'd meant for her tone to be as bitter as possible, her hands only opening the door a fraction so that she could peer through the gap, her face the very image of indignant. "I told you, didn't I? Stay  _away_  from me."

"You were serious?" Riley laughed; features smug as he leant forwards so that his forearm was the only thing supporting him against the doorframe. "I've been gone a week… what more do you want?"

"Longer than that."

" _Ouch_ …" Riley clasped a feeble hand to his chest, his voice melodramatic. "So cutting so soon?" He raised a cocky eyebrow. "It's like I never left."

"That what you wanted? A reminder?"

"Could call it that."

"Then consider yourself  _reminded_." Lara rolled her eyes quickly, her hands slowly beginning to push the door closed. "Now if you're done dicking about… I have work to do."

"Lighten up." His boot kicked out, catching in the door and stopping her from closing it fully. An irrepressible smirk smeared across his features as Riley leant closer, his voice low. "Enough of the fucking games. You gonna let me in or what?"

If she possessed anything vaguely resembling restraint, Lara knew that now was the time to use it, to shove hard against the wood of her door and shut him out, whether she broke his foot in the process or not. As it was, Lara did nothing of the sort, instead releasing a soft grunt and allowing the door to slide open further.

The first thing she noticed was a strong smell of soap coupled with the damp sheen to his hair, tousled strands still wet and clumped together. His skin glistened above the neck of his t shirt, almost as if he had literally pulled on his clothes as soon as he'd stepped out of the shower, the thin black material hugging the definition that she by now knew all too well. It was then when she noticed that Ghost suddenly seemed to be very close and Lara quickly retreated behind her desk, clearing her throat as if it made the action that little more subtle. Automatically, her hands flew back to her computer, quickly closing the unfinished email. She could feel Riley watching her, the uncomfortable silence feeling as though it was just another deliberate attempt by the lieutenant to wind her up. Choosing to be unaffected by this, Lara refused to be the first one to speak; instead seating herself on the edge of her desk, her arms folded in what she hoped was a casual manner.

" _So_ …" Ghost glanced around the room before his gaze finally settled back intently onto hers. "Miss me?"

"Like a hole in the head."

"Can be arranged." The lieutenant grinned.

"Nice to know you care."

"Where's the fun in caring?" Riley shrugged, laughter quivering within his words. "You know me, all doom, gloom and heavy petting."

"You're such a catch obviously." Lara rolled her eyes. "Sounds like you don't even  _need_  me."

"Don't be like that… Where else would I get my quick fix if I didn't have you, eh?"

" _Fuck off_."

"Yeah, yeah… try and deny it. But let's face it; I'm not the only one with needs here am I?" He paused, clearly savouring the mixed look of outrage and embarrassment visible on Lara's features. "Or lemme guess… you've traded me in for Greg already, is that it?"

" _Please…_ " Lara scoffed, shaking her head incredulously. "I'd just gotten rid of one complete arsehole; you think I was really looking for another?"

"True. But even then he doesn't know you like I do." Riley took a step forward as if to prove his point. "Gotta count for something, right?"

"You do  _not_ know me, Simon."

"I think you've screamed my name enough times for us both to know that's a lie… right, Bones?"

"That's typical Riley isn't it?" Lara rolled her eyes, hating the slight warmth in her face that she could feel from his blunt words. "That has nothing to do with you  _knowing_  me in the slightest."

"All the same right?  _Privileged_  information?" He moved closer, standing directly in front of her, his right hand ghosting up the outside of her thigh slowly, a coarse thumb idly rubbing across the seams of her trousers.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Looking for more privileges?"

"No…" McCoy stood as thought she'd been scalded, her hands pushing him away. "We made a deal. Nights  _only_."

"The whole fucking base  _knows_ …" Ghost laughed softly, spreading his arms unfazed. "Does it matter anymore?"

"I'm  _working_ …"

"I've been working for the past week."

"What do you want? A fucking medal?" She rolled her eyes, instinctively taking a step away from him.

"A bit of recognition wouldn't go a miss." He shrugged, moving after her, the same, knowing smile spread across his features. "But come on… you know the drill right? All that adrenaline, tension… whatever you want to call it." That persistent right hand was tracing its way up her arm this time, stopping firmly on her right shoulder. "Has to go somewhere, right?"

" _Riley…"_

"What?" He grinned, his grip tightening. "Are you honestly telling me that you  _haven't_  missed this?"

"Get the fuck off me…"

"You wanna play all innocent?  _Fine_ …" He smirked again, his thumb pressing almost painfully into her collarbone, forcing her to look him in the eye. "Then make me let go."

Lara's left arm seemed to make the decision for her and despite how painful the action may have been she lunged out, ready to prise Riley's hand off her. In return his free hand caught her wrist, twisting her arm and wrenching it behind her back, wave after wave of excruciating pain coursing through her system and forcing an agonised moan from her lips. Still defiant, Lara kicked out with her right leg, raising her knee almost out of instinct but he countered her, knocking it aside with his thigh before closing the distance between them. Her now suppressed body was only able to writhe as he pushed her backwards, her back and pinned arms colliding with the door painfully. A dull, almost muffled thud greeted Lara's ears and it took her longer than she'd have liked to realise that it was the back of her head bouncing off the hard wood.

"Fucking  _pathetic_ …" For once, Riley's voice wasn't filled with the slightest bit of malice, his face split into a wide, triumphant grin. He cocked his head to one side, staring at her intently, Lara still struggling against him as much as her burning limbs would allow. Ghost's grin became deeper. In seconds he was pushing forwards, crushing his lips against hers in an action that could never be anything but aggressive.

It was a kiss that any romance novel would despise and yet Lara did nothing to stop it, her body remaining stiff and defiant against Ghost's onslaught. Her reluctance did not go unnoticed, the hand gripping her injured arm pulling it that little bit tighter and forcing a yelp of pained surprise from her lips. Opening her mouth proved to be a fatal mistake, as suddenly Riley was there again, his tongue lapping against her lips in a way that made her knees buckle and her mouth soften in automatic response. A groan slipped from his mouth and into hers, the grip on her arms lessening so that Lara could free herself, her hands slipping down and resting lightly upon his hips. Riley's body simply chose to push closer in return.

He knew just how to push all the right buttons to make her lose her resolve, that much, however painful to admit, was obvious as two firm hands began to roam hungrily over her torso. But that wasn't the worst of it. After all, Ghost had been right all along. She  _had_  missed this, whatever  _this_ was supposed to be.

But that sure as hell didn't mean that Riley was allowed to be in control all the time.

It was all just a matter of waiting, the kiss suddenly turning more into a game than anything else. Patiently, Lara did everything she could to try and draw Riley in; her thumbs rubbing circles against his hips in a simple move she knew drove him insane. As a result their kissing became more frantic, Riley allowing himself another soft moan in the process as Lara sucked on his bottom lip. It was the only sign she needed and in an almost well rehearsed move, Lara's grip on his hips tightened, her body using every pound of its weight as leverage to flip them over, Riley's back suddenly colliding with the wall. The lieutenant hissed, more out of shock than pain at the sudden change in position, but he was quickly silenced by Lara's knee working its way between his legs, effectively pinning him to the wall whilst her mouth moved down across his jaw and onto his neck.

" _Bitch_ …" His voice was soft, breathy, his hand finding its way onto her ponytail as she found the particularly sensitive pulse point on his neck and bit down on it, marking him almost identically to what he had done to her the week before. Now kissing at the damage she had inflicted, Lara grinned against his skin when Ghost's hips pushed forwards into hers. She laughed to herself, proud of her small victory, her lips landing one last, glancing kiss to his neck before she stepped back.

"We're not making a habit of that."

"You're kidding me, right?" Riley rolled his eyes, his left hand reaching upwards and rubbing across the sore patch on his neck. "Why the fuck  _not_?"

"Because we both have jobs to do." She shook her head. "Besides, I was proving a point, nothing more."

"Your point being?"

"That you don't have quite as much control over me as you thought you did."

"Maybe not…but I don't think that matters." He gave her a self satisfied smirk. "I think we're both clear about what's happening tonight."

"You flatter yourself."

"After that?" He grinned, pushing off from the wall. "You might have proved your point, but face it, you still lost overall." He laughed. "You  _have_  missed me."

"I missed the  _sex_ , not you, Riley." Lara rolled her eyes indignantly. "Don't get the two confused."

"And the ice queen's back in action. Whatever. It makes no difference to me." Shrugging, he took a step towards the door purposefully. "You know where I'll be tonight if you want me."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you're one hell of an actress." Riley's lips quirked into a crooked smile. "I'll see you around, Bones."

* * *

John Mactavish wasn't particularly used to having copious amounts of free time and as a result he often didn't know what to do with it when he did have it. But after Chelyabinsk, it seemed that all he had had was free time, their journey back to the 141 base seemingly plagued by delays. As such, it had given him a rare pause between their operation and it's debrief, along with it time to reflect. Ironically, in this case, the last thing he had wanted was even more time to sit and comb through every little mistake he had made.

With Shepherd pacing his office in front of him, at least Mactavish could take solace in the fact that all that waiting had finally come to an end.

"So…  _gentlemen_." Shepherd nodded curtly, finally slowing his pace and leaning against Mactavish's desk. "We lost Baskov… our  _only_  lead. And what we get in return are the scraps from some guarded trafficking operation." The general shook his head, his eyes flitting between both Mactavish and Ghost. "Do I even get an explanation?"

"With respect the situation was out of our control, sir. We had no way of knowing that Baskov would take his own life."

"I distinctly remember the word 'stealth' being used, Mactavish." Shepherd rolled his eyes, his arms folded. "By rights Baskov shouldn't have even known you were there."

"We did everything we could." Soap held his voice steady, although his hands behind his back were wringing together tightly. "We gathered intel, surveillance, watched for weaknesses in their patrols-"

"And yet you were still rumbled?"

"…Yes, sir."

"In my book, Mactavish, that means you weren't prepared." The general raised an exasperated eyebrow. "You went in at night?"

"When there were fewer patrols, yes, sir."

"But those patrols were on higher alert." Shepherd sighed. "They'd have been better off distracted." He reached down to the intel lying forgotten on Mactavish's desk, tapping at it almost impatiently. "Your own surveillance tells me that you were given the perfect distraction but you ignored it. Is that right?"

"… Yes, sir."

"Your reasoning being?"

"An impossible situation, sir." Soap shook his head slowly; his knuckles white and straining now behind his back. "It was too unpredictable, for all we knew there could have been fresh guards arriving, or the patrols might have changed." He shrugged softly. "Our surveillance would have been wasted."

"Your surveillance was wasted either way. Baskov was worth the risks and  _more._ "

"With respect I don't-"

"Sir, if I may?" Ghost, who had been standing relatively forgotten in the office, suddenly spoke out, his voice cutting through Soap's and causing the captain to double take, his gaze shooting across to his lieutenant at his side.

"Go on…"

"Mactavish wanted to go in early…" Riley stated matter-of-factly, his face void of any real emotion. When Soap opened his mouth to speak Riley interrupted him again. "It was my decision to wait."

"What?"

"… He saw the delivery and ordered that we should move in to take the tactical advantage." Riley shrugged casually, a move out of place in such seemingly formal surroundings. "I argued, told him that we should wait. The only mistake he made was to listen to me."

"Is that right?" The general didn't look altogether convinced.

"Yes, sir. I was very vocal about it, managed to swing him round. I should have…  _followed_  my orders."

"You'd do well to remember your rank." Shepherd gave the lieutenant an almost disgusted look, his gaze flicking back to Soap. "As should you, Mactavish."

"… Yes, sir." The term bewildered didn't seem to do what Soap was feeling justice, confusion coursing through his brain like wildfire.

"The 141 can't afford to make mistakes. We're expected to be above that. You're  _supposed_ to be my best men. If I can't trust in that, then this task force has no future. Is that understood?"

"Of course, sir."

"Good." Shepherd straightened up slowly, stepping closer to Soap and standing so that they were eye to eye. "I still expect the very best from you. That includes the  _truth_." He indicated over his shoulder to Ghost. "No more covering for your subordinates."

"Understood, sir."

"Then there's little else to say." Stepping around them, Shepherd headed straight for the door, his tone remaining dismissive. "But I expect results and I sure as hell better start seeing them very soon. I suggest you keep that in mind, gentlemen."

Once the door had slammed shut, Soap waited the obligatory ten seconds for Shepherd to move out of earshot before he spun round, frustrated, near angry eyes meeting with Riley's. The gaze that met remained passive, glaring back at him with cool defiance.

"What the hell was that?"

"Some gratitude." The lieutenant shook his head. "You're fucking welcome."

"You  _lied._ "

"Well done. Take you long to work that one out?" Riley shrugged arrogantly. "Yeah, I lied. What does it matter?"

"Why? After everything we've said…-"

"Because unlike you, I can separate work and everything else."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh I think you know." Riley laughed quickly. "I did it because you had one hell of a lot more to lose than I did."

"You had a lot more to gain."

" _And?_ " Ghost scoffed. "If I was career soldier, believe me, you'd fucking know about it." He rolled his eyes. "I don't want your job, ok? I never have done."

"You think I do half the time?"

"That's not my problem. All I know is that  _this_ …" Riley indicated to the office around them. "… Is all you have left. Like I said, you have one hell of a lot more to  _lose_." He shrugged bluntly. "I saved your arse like I said I would. Case closed."

"Riley…-"

"Don't you even think about thanking me." The lieutenant warned. "This is professional and that's the end of it. I haven't forgotten half the shit that you've kept throwing at me." He rolled his eyes, stepping towards the office door himself. "Just count this as the respect you've kept telling me to show you."

"Fine."

"Good." Riley nodded abruptly, opening the door with his left hand. "Maybe now I'll get a little bit of that loyalty you promised me."

* * *

" _You know where I'll be tonight if you want me."_

" _And what if I don't?"_

" _Then you're one hell of an actress."_

Lara rolled her eyes. Who exactly had she been trying to fool?

She heard Ghost's door lock from the inside behind her, the barracks corridor suddenly feeling cold and empty as she gathered her flimsy shirt around her body. Her skin was still tingling, burning in places and she was certain that she'd have a few more marks in the morning, the only saving grace this time being that they'd be easier to hide. The cool air of the corridor sent a shudder across her heated skin, her forearms prickling up into gooseflesh as her feet began to pick there way silently towards the barracks exit.

 _The walk of shame._  A familiar sickened feeling was already beginning to grow within the pit of her stomach. It was the same one that hit her each time she scuttled away from Ghost's room, never lessening, never amplifying. A constant presence of guilt and self loathing, each in equal measure. Lara sighed. Sometimes she just wished that she could stay in Riley's room rather than being thrown out like some abandoned toy. But as much as he'd try to keep her for as long as possible, Ghost seemed adamant that she would never actually see him  _sleep_.

The rec room was darkened and seemingly abandoned as she snuck past it, her hands reaching out for the cool metal of the entrance doors. But something made her stop, the soft chink of glass against glass catching her attention. Lara froze. She didn't know exactly what it was that made her turn back, but something did.

What greeted her was not a sight she would have ever expected.

"You should be in bed." The words tumbled from her mouth unchecked, Mactavish jumping at the combination of the sudden sound and the sight of her shadowed figure in the doorway. He squinted, seemingly focusing his vision before slugging back another measure of whisky, the bottle sitting now half empty on the wooden table in front of him. Lara rolled her eyes, her hands resting on her hips. "… John?"

" _Great_ …" The captain laughed into his now empty glass, his hands already unscrewing the bottle to pour himself a refill. "Now you've stopped trying to even  _hide_  it."

"What?"

"Don't give me that." He rolled his eyes. "I might be pissed… but I know where you've been." He hung his head, his gaze dropping from hers. "I'm surprised you don't just fucking stay there."

"I don't-"

"Whatever… I don't care." Soap shrugged, waving at her dismissively with one hand. "Bigger problems."

"So I see." She wasn't sure what made her do it, but Lara was already stepping into the room and striding across to him, pulling herself out a chair.

"What do you think you're doing?" Soap merely slurred, swaying slightly as he stared at her.

"You think I'm going to leave you like this? Fucking no chance." She reached for his empty glass and the whisky bottle, pouring out a hefty measure of amber liquid. For a moment she contemplated it, swilling it around the base of the glass before downing it all in one movement. A splutter caught the back of her throat, liquid fire immediately beginning to burn and sting at her tonsils.

" _Hey…_ "

"Like you haven't had enough already." She laughed gently. "Good stuff, though. It's a crime to drink it like this."

"I forget you know your whisky." Soap shook his head, his face instantly showing that he'd regretted the action. "But it serves its purpose."

"Which is?"

"To forget. What else?"

"And what are we forgetting?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Mactavish rolled his eyes, taking the glass from her, sliding it clumsily across the table and back into his hands. "I might not remember this in the morning but you sure as hell will."

"Fine…" Without hesitation, Lara unscrewed the top of the bottle, throwing her head back and swallowing a heavy measure of alcohol in one go, the resulting inferno in her throat causing her eyes to water. Taking a deep, cooling breath inwards, she placed the bottle carefully back onto the table, her eyes watching Soap expectantly. "Now,  _talk_."

"You're bloody unbelievable…" The captain laughed. "…I like it." Slumping forwards, he rested his head in his hands, his fingers reaching up and cradling his temples. When he spoke again, all good humour seemed to be lost from his voice. "Do you ever get the feeling that you've done it all wrong?"

"Every day." Lara eyed him carefully. "Is that what this is about?"

"This job… it takes you,  _breaks_  you. Rebuilds the pieces but they don't fit together the same." Soap shook his head. "I'm not the person I used to be."

"None of us are."

"It's not like that… it's…  _more_." He ran a hand across his Mohawk thoughtfully. "I used to give a shit about life…  _real_  life. Used to try and move mountains for my sister and now I can barely get a birthday card to her on time." His gaze met Lara's almost reluctantly. "Somewhere along the line my priorities changed… and I don't fucking like it."

"She still knows you care." Lara nodded, feeling as though she was consoling herself more than anything, her mother and brother flickering briefly in front of her mind's eye.

"Does she?" Soap scoffed. "Not if you ask my Da."

"People are quick to judge things they don't understand. You're doing your job here… a damn good one too. You have to remember that."

"That used to be what kept me going… my work, my rank… fucking responsibilities." Soap rolled his eyes. "But even that's all gone to shit."

"No."

"Yes!" He let out an exasperated laugh, his hand hitting out against the wood of the table top. "I can't even do that anymore… I get injured, abandon my men and make the wrong decisions." His fists clenched in exasperation. "Riley was right… this is all I have now. If I've lost it…"

"You've not lost it."

"And what would you know, eh?" Soap spat, his eyes suddenly alive with rage. "With all that command experience you have? You don't even know what you're saying."

"I know enough." Lara persisted, a hesitant hand reaching out on instinct and resting on top of his forearm. "I know that I trust you with my life… I know that the others do too."

"You all  _have_  to."

"No… We  _have_  to follow your orders. But no one is forcing us to trust you." She shrugged softly. "Isn't that what real leadership is?"

"Maybe… I don't…" Soap rolled his eyes, a hand rubbing across his eyes. "I don't fucking  _know_  anymore."

"Then maybe you should swallow that pride of yours and listen to me… just this once."

"You're a stubborn bitch, aren't you?"

"You have no idea. Have to be to be able to handle you lot."

"It's always the stubborn ones." The captain sighed, his eyes drifting down and staring at Lara's hand that still lay on top of his arm. "Shepherd did the right thing, you know… bringing you here."

"I still need to prove myself."

"You already have… Living proof, aren't I?"

"I guess."

"I didn't forget that." She'd tried to move her hand away, but the action was clearly noticed by Mactavish. It might have been a clumsy action yet Soap's hand still managed to grab her by the wrist, holding her hand near him, his grip bordering on painful. "You should have waited and followed orders… but you didn't. You risked your neck for someone you barely even knew."

"I was doing my job."

"You were doing more than that. That's what the 141  _do_."

"Then I should fit right in. But I don't." She laughed darkly. "Then again, I should be used to that by now. I haven't fitted in for a long time. Even in the Paras."

"You were happy with them?"

"Not at first. It was like it was here… a real boy's club filled with people waiting for me to slip up and show weakness." She bit her lip softly, memories of the regiment washing over her. "Selection was a bitch. There were me and two other girls at the start. One of them didn't keep up with the log run and was kicked out. The other didn't make it through milling."

"Milling?"

"Full contact sparring. You stand toe to toe with your opponent and take every punch they throw at you for sixty seconds…  _no defence_." She shuddered. "I was a mess, barely even conscious but somehow I managed to stay on my feet." She gave him a soft smile. "One of the other recruits cleaned me up, joked about me not being too good looking to start with. He turned out to be my best friend."

"Where's he now?"

"Dead." Lara spoke bluntly, no longer able to meet his eye. "He was one I couldn't save."

"But you tried?"

"As a medic you should never have bias." Lara shook her head, her gaze burning into the worn grain of the wooden table. "But I'd have given anything to save him."

"Were you and he…?"

"No, God no!" Lara choked, her voice startled. "No I didn't …  _do_  that then. I used to have rules that this task force has shot to shit."

"Rules?"

"I didn't fuck about, ok?" She rolled her eyes, her tone filled with exasperation. "Quite the opposite if you must know. I'd given up."

"On sex?"

"On it  _all._ " She paused, worrying her lip. "Being in a relationship requires you to be able to share at least a part of yourself with somebody else. I realised… well, I can't seem to do that."

"Time was my problem." The captain shrugged. "Always wanted more than I could give her."

"I guess this life doesn't mix well with relationships, right?"

"You could say that." Soap nodded slowly, automatically pouring himself another whisky. He threw it back without hesitation, hissing as the alcohol hit the back of his throat, his voice hoarse from the action. "But then what are you doing with Riley?" The change in atmosphere was so distinct, the air around them suddenly feeling brittle and taut.

"We've been through this…"

"You were holding back." He gave her a knowing look. "I could tell."

"I told you the truth…"

"But not all of it. I want you to tell me the rest."

"There's nothing to tell."

"It's not like I'll remember."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Lara rolled her eyes. "It's not  _right_. I don't give a shit whether you're out of your skull or not."

"So I don't have a right to know?" He scoffed bitterly in return.

"No, you don't. Not unless it's in a professional sense." Turning away from him, Lara tried her hardest to bite back her anger and confusion, the emotions beginning to swell at the back of her throat with his every word. She blinked hard, her teeth raking across her bottom lip. "It's not like you're my…" Somehow the words just couldn't leave her mouth.

"No, I'm not. But…" Soap paused himself, his words lagging as he tried to buy himself time to think through his haze. Defeated, he let out a heavy sigh. "You deserve better."

"Who?" Lara turned back to him, her right eyebrow raised. " _You?_ "

"I said someone  _better_."

"Typical. Next you'll be telling me that what we deserve we always get."

"With all the shit I have going on right now?" Soap gave her a serious look, leaning back in his chair idly. "I think that's true."

"Christ!" It might have just been an angered hiss, but the frustration was clear in her features as Lara shot upwards, her hands automatically flying into the air. "Have you fucking  _heard_  yourself?"

"What?"

"You're so busy wrapped up in your problems that you don't see yourself making them worse." She shook her head despairingly. "You're too scared to just fucking  _try_."

"So I'm a coward, is that it?" Mactavish laughed bitterly. "One more thing I'm doing wrong."

"That's just it! You're so focused on everything that you think is wrong that you're missing the bigger picture."

"The bigger picture?" Soap was standing up himself by now, his body swaying from the speed of the action, face suddenly inches from Lara's. "So go on… tell me, what's bigger than my fucking command?"

"The fact that you have it for a  _reason._ " Lara shook her head, pressing closer, determined not to be seen to be backing down to him. "You make these mistakes because you're our CO…"

"A sodding terrible one…"

"No!" Without thinking she reached out, hitting him squarely across the bicep. "You make the decisions that the rest of us can't. We don't make those same mistakes because we don't have the same opportunity…"

"That's bollocks."

"It's the  _truth_. Do you really think that your operation would have gone better if Riley was in command?"

"He wanted to move in."

"Because he didn't have your responsibility." Lara shook her head slowly. "Who's to say that he'd have said the same if he was in your position?"

"I can't know that for sure."

"No, you  _can't_." This time Lara's arm lingered, her grip on his arm tight, as though it was holding his attention. "Just like you can't say the opposite. You just have to trust yourself for getting us this far."

"And if I can't?"

"Then try and do it for us…  _all_ of us." She let go of his arm bluntly. "We trust you. Don't throw that back into our faces."

"You don't know that."

"I don't?" Lara scoffed angrily. "Do you know how difficult it is for me to trust someone? For me to admire them so much in such a short space of time? I don't fucking do that lightly…" She rolled her eyes, her voice shaky now, something she desperately fought to hide. "You were right. I  _am_  a member of the 141. A damn loyal one too. I know the only way I'm getting out of this is in a body bag, hell, it's the last part of me that I can fucking give to this job." She blinked hard, her hands resting on her hips. "But do you think that came out of nowhere? Because it didn't. It came from having a CO whose so dedicated that all you can do is fucking follow their example." She shook her head, holding her arms out wide as she stepped away from him. "Shepherd might not see that but the rest of us do."

"Lara-"

" _Don't_ , please." She sighed; embarrassment flooding through her as she wearily rubbed her face with one hand. "It's late… we shouldn't be doing this now." Laughing nervously, she hastily corrected herself. "We should  _never_ have done this _._ "

"Did you mean any of it?

"Does it matter? I don't flatter myself into thinking that I'm going to change you in one night." She shrugged, turning her back on him. "I lost it, ok? And I shouldn't have."

"You're wrong about me."

"I don't think I am. That's the problem." She spoke slowly over her shoulder. "But you should get some sleep. You're going to need it."

"What about you?"

"I'll finish up here then go do the same." She smiled bitterly, safe in the knowledge that he couldn't see her face. "We should forget this ever happened."

"We should." Soap replied softly, his voice quieter, more distant. "But if it helps at all, I  _won't_."

She'd didn't know how long she had stood there with her back to the rec room door, only that when she did finally turn around again Soap was gone, cracks of light from the open door pouring into the dimly lit room. Lara wasn't surprised. She'd heard him leave without saying anything else and yet she hadn't dared to turn around just in case he was still standing there after all. After everything that happened, she should have been more than used to dealing with the awkwardness that existed between them. As it was, she still didn't know how to handle it without embarrassing herself in the process.

The screw cap firmly in place on the whisky bottle, she stowed it away in a nearby cupboard, shoving aside some of Royce's god awful lager to make room. Retreating over to the sink, she placed the glass in the bowl, her hands resting on the kitchen counter as if they were the only things supporting her weight. She hung her head. Once again her mind was a blur of emotion. She'd said too much, let her mouth speak unchecked and hinted towards feelings that she didn't even want to admit to herself. She was left with regret, in desperate need of life's rewind button now that she had somehow managed to make everything worse all over again.

The smart thing would have been to go to bed, but somehow that no longer felt like an option. Instead, her body feeling as though it was acting without her mind's control, she found herself filling a pint glass with water and heading in the opposite direction of the infirmary. Her reasoning? There was little she could do to genuinely make anything worse, but a lot she could do to try and make it better.

She'd never been to his room before, but she knew where it was all the same, tucked away at the very end of the barracks and opposite the shower room. Yet she still hesitated, her fist hanging idly in mid air in front of the wood. With a determined swallow, she knocked gently, when there was no answer knocking again, risking a louder action this time.

"Lara?" Bleary eyes greeted her, the door opening partially to reveal Mactavish's form. He was shirtless, the defined, toned outline of his shoulder and collar bone highlighted by shadow in the dim light. Lara hadn't noticed that her gaze was fixed to the bare skin until he had cleared his throat. "I thought you were planning on sleeping?"

"I am." She nodded, quickly holding the pint glass out to him. "But I figured you could do with this first."

"I could have gotten it myself."

"But you probably wouldn't have." She shrugged nervously, glancing around the corridor. "Can I come in? I swear I won't keep you long."

"Um, yeah. Sure." Taking the water from her, Mactavish stepped aside, giving her just enough space to step into his room. Automatically he closed the door behind her, a tense silence immediately filling the room.

"Never stop being a doctor, right?" He tilted the glass of water towards her in indication, before taking a long, deliberate drink.

"I guess you could say so." She felt defeated before she'd even begun, her posture slumping noticeably. "Look… John-"

"Save it." The captain shook his head dismissively, although it wasn't unkind as he sat down on his bed, the glass of water resting in his hands between his knees. He watched her carefully, his gaze never faltering. "I know what you're going to say and right now we've both said enough apologies to last a lifetime." He laughed softly, although there was something contrived about the action. "Easier to just leave it all unsaid, right?"

"Easier for who?  _You?_ " Lara shook her head. "We leave all this shit unsaid and then it creeps up on us when you're pissed and I'm… not thinking straight." She swallowed, a deliberate stall to give herself a little more time to think. "But I'm just as lost in this as you are."

"I doubt that."

"You're not helping."

"I'm not really trying to." Sighing, Mactavish placed his pint glass on the floor, standing up so that he was directly in front of Lara. He moved that little bit closer, whisky still potent on his breath. "But if you want to say something to me, then go ahead." He shrugged casually. "Give honesty a shot, just this once."

"Does that mean you'll be honest with me too?"

"As much as I can be."

"That's not enough."

"But it's the best I can give you." He tilted his head to one side, watching her carefully. "Take it or leave it."

"Why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?" Lara hissed, running a nervous hand through her hair. She worried her lip. "You want all this to blow over, I understand that. More than you think. But I don't think you understand me here."

"Understand what?"

"That I can't just  _forget_  this, alright? I don't know what the fuck I'm feeling right now but  _you_ …" She sighed. "You're always there somehow."

"I'm your CO."

"You know that wasn't what I meant." She rolled her eyes, her shoulders falling further. "Like I said… you're  _really_  not making this any easier."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to be honest with me… just for one fucking second. I want…" Lara tailed off, her gaze resting on the wall behind him whilst her mind tried to reign in and control her mouth. Focused, she finally met his gaze again. "Just tell me if you're finding this as damned difficult as I am."

"That's not a fair question."

"I never said it was but I deserve an answer. We agreed to let this go and I'll still do that. But right now it just feels like its all so easy for you to forget and that's what gets to me the most." She shrugged. "Just put me out of my fucking misery here."

"Am I finding this easy?" She hadn't expected him to laugh, but that was the exact reaction that she received, the captain's features creasing with the action. A smile remained strewn across his features and yet when he spoke his voice contained a deeper, darker quality. "Are you insane?"

"I don't understand…"

"Easy?" He rolled his eyes. "Believe me, it's  _not_."

"Then I'm not on my own with this?"

"Lara, you're overly stubborn, you always say the wrong things at the wrong time and I swear you have more insecurities than the rest of this task force combined. To top it all off you're sleeping with my best friend and somehow I'm supposed to be ok with that. But  _yes_ , getting you out of my system is something that's proving bloody difficult." He glared at her almost angrily, exhaling sharply. "Is that enough for you?"

"I… I didn't think."

"No. You never do." His features softened, a tentative hand reaching out and squeezing her shoulder. "And I'm sorry, but right now that's the best I can give you."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means…" Soap hesitated, his brow furrowed, eyes lost deep in thought. With a soft sway, he moved forwards, the hand on Lara's shoulder creeping upwards her face. Deftly, as though he might back out any second, his hand moved around to the back of her head, clumsily pushing her forwards in an awkward movement. Lara, caught off guard, barely had the time to close her eyes before his lips brushed against hers, the action rushed, fleeting and yet oddly genuine. As soon as it had begun, it ended as Soap pulled backwards, taking a step away from her for good measure. "I meant what I said. You deserve better."

"And if I don't want better?"

"It doesn't matter." Mactavish shook his head. "I've told you that this isn't possible. Maybe it is for Riley but I'm not him." The captain swallowed hard. "Maybe if he was in my position he'd do it differently."

"You still could."

"I  _can't._  I'm not able to give you what you want, Lara… I never was. I stopped myself where I should never have kissed you in the first place." He hesitated. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not." She couldn't quite meet his gaze, but Lara had a damn good try, her voice low and controlled. "But if that's what you want."

"I wouldn't say it like that."

"You're making it worse." She stated bluntly, already stepping away from him, determined for her voice not to fail her now. "You've been honest and I appreciate that."

"We just need to get back to some normality here."

"Normality?" No matter how hard she tried, Lara was unable to restrain a dark laugh from spilling from her lips. "We're a little past that don't you think?"

"You know this makes sense."

"Sure I do, in this world." She shook her head slowly, forcing herself to look him in the eye. "But two people who obviously give a shit about one another deliberately pushing each other away?" She laughed again. "Face it, in the real world we'd be fucking  _insane_."

She didn't wait for a response, mainly because she doubted that he could give her an adequate one, Lara instead choosing to duck out of the room as quickly as possible. The door firmly shut behind her, she paused, her resolve faltering as a lump began to steadily rise in her throat. Ever defiant, she pushed it back. The last man she had cried over had been Richards and despite it all, she was determined to deny Soap the same recognition as she'd given him. After all, he might have only been her best friend, but at least he had been brave enough to fight for what he cared about.

Despite all her efforts, it seemed as though Mactavish never would be…


	16. Think Twice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

Short of actually being on leave, the following two weeks were as quiet as the 141 could probably get.

Life fell into a steady rhythm, one that Lara learned to appreciate more and more even if she didn't always realise it. The mornings were dominated by training, her body still battling through the rigorous routines yet at the same time the dull, near constant ache in her muscles became almost comforting. The afternoons were either spent with weapons training or her other duties, evenings almost wished away in the rec room with a game of cards or just idle conversation. At first Lara had thought that the lack of privacy and time alone was excruciating, but the longer she spent with the men, the less naïve she became of their situation. The time they spent together, even when all they would do was jeer and mock, was their lifeline. They were a unit, men who knew each other inside and out, for better and for worse. Spending almost all of their waking time together ensured that an odd familiarity developed between them all, even with those who didn't see eye to eye half of the time. The result? A kind of forced, never vocalised trust that Lara herself was only just beginning to feel.

She might not have assimilated herself completely, but she was well on her way.

"Oi, Oi!" Rook yelled unceremoniously, drawing everyone's attentions to the rec room door. It was a grey and dreary Tuesday and as a result they were all glad of the distraction when a wearied Archer and Toad staggered into the room. Lara herself let a small smile broach her features and she shifted her position at the table, clearing a space opposite of papers for them both to sit down. "Well look who the fuck it is."

"You both look like hammered shit." It was the closest Meat came to a warm welcome but he still patted Toad on the back as he squeezed past him towards the kitchen area.

"Don't let the dark circles fool you…" Toad laughed in return. "I had the time of my life."

"How was it?" Mactavish nodded from the far end of the table, his hands nursing a cup of coffee. The rest of them didn't know much, only that Shepherd had been asked to provide support for another unit's raid. He had given it in the form of Toad and Archer.

"A fucking waste of time." Archer practically spat.

"To say the least." Toad finished his sentence, accepting the cup of coffee that Ozone handed to him almost automatically.

"That good, eh?"

"Good?" Archer scoffed. "It was a complete balls up. Half the twats didn't know what the fuck was going on. Intel was shaky at best and we spent most our time sitting around on stag freezing our bollocks off." He paused to push a cigarette into his mouth, holding it in his teeth whilst he lit it. There was a brief pause as he gave the captain a forced smile, puffing out a contented breath of smoke. "In a nutshell."

"Maaaaate…" Rook coughed, leaning backwards away from the table, his hand waving in front of his face. "There's fucking outside for that."

"There is no outside. It's  _raining_."

"Then wait!"

"Wait?" Archer cracked an amused laugh, but his gaze remained fixed on Rook's, staring him down. "I've had fifty fags all week. Fucking  _do one_ , mate."

"You think this is bad..." Toad rolled his eyes, giving Rook an almost apologetic look. "You should have been there when he ran out the first time."

" _Fuck you_ , Chris."

Lara laughed, returning to the medical journals lying forgotten on the table in front of her. It might have been a little obsessive but it was one of the few habits she had actually attempted to hold onto from University, a part of her enjoying the act even if she was only able to skim read a couple of pages each month. Her ears immediately zoned out of the conversation, the red pen in her hands circling a specific topic that she knew she would end up researching again later. Lost in her thoughts it took a hand actively nudging at her left arm for her to pay attention to her surroundings again, her head lifting in alarm at the sudden intrusion.

"You  _still_  working?" It was rare for Ghost to speak to her directly when they were with the others and yet here he was, his body still leaning back casually away from her, posture slouched and relaxed. He quirked an eyebrow when she didn't immediately respond, his face breaking into a smirk. "Or more to the point, do you ever fucking shut off?"

"Does it matter?"

"No. But that doesn't answer my question."

"This isn't really working." She rolled her eyes, tapping at the papers with her pen. "I'm just interested, that's all."

" _Really?_ " He leant forwards, squinting at the papers curiously. "In that shit?"

"How else do you think I managed five years at med school?" She scoffed, resting on her left hand so that he was all but blotted out from her peripheral vision. "Why don't you go back to your cave, Riley? It's what you know best."

"…  _Bitch_."

She hadn't been aware of it at first, but now it was the norm for him to sit beside her in the rec room when Roach or Toad weren't around, the lieutenant seemingly doing it out of habit more than anything else. Even so, there was still very little interaction between them, vocal or physical, both of them appearing to ignore each other as much as possible. Lara wasn't very sure of the significance of the action, knowing Riley she even doubted that it had one and therefore she never really bothered to question it.

"Now see, this is where Greg shows his inexperience." Royce laughed suddenly, loud enough to break her concentration and cause her to look up. He was sat on her right, his face split into a near permanent grin even as he sipped at the sickly looking energy drink in front of him. "…Or possibly just his poor choice in girls."

Lara rolled her eyes.  _Girl talk._  It never ceased to amaze her how often a group of twenty something men could resort to joking about either women or wanking. Often at the same time. The fact that they were some of the most elite soldiers in the world made very little difference.

"Har fucking har." Meat laughed sarcastically from behind her. Ever the rebel, the linguist was perched on top of the kitchen counter, shovelling mouthfuls of pasta into his mouth in between each sentence. "And when was the last time you pulled, Royce? Back when facial hair was a turn on?"

"Maybe when you finally hit puberty you'll be able to grow some yourself. Besides, it pulls better than you think."

"Of course. What woman doesn't find bits of old food and scratchy stubble attractive?" The linguist rolled his eyes. "Now  _languages._  That's what women want."

"Girls do love an accent." Rook interjected. "Except half of them can't tell the difference between Australian and English."

"You need to raise your standards, mate." Riley smirked.

"An accent, sure. But a full blown language?" Royce pursed his lips. " _Please_. You're actually telling me that you con girls into sleeping with you with a bit of Portuguese?"

"They love it." Greg laughed. "More than your retro goatee that's for fucking sure."

"Least I don't look like a  _child_ …" Royce shook his head. "And believe me; my wife would disagree with you for sure."

"The fact that she married you questions her sanity. Sorry bro, but we need a better deciding vote than that one."

"Dick." Royce rolled his eyes, turning to Lara and elbowing her quickly. "Bones, you're a woman, what do you think?"

"That you're all twats?" She cocked an amused yet exasperated eyebrow.

"You're killing us with your wit here, McCoy."

"Does it even matter?"

"Oh  _please_ … just step down from that moral high ground for a sec and settle the fucking argument." Meat simply replied with a sarcastic smirk that she was fortunate enough to miss.

There was quiet for a split second, the entire room seemingly waiting for her answer. The attention was rare to say the least and Lara drew it out for as long as possible, her lips quirking into a smile as several pairs of eyes suddenly seemed fixed upon her. She opened her mouth to speak, hesitating when she caught hold of Mactavish's gaze, his eyes watching her a little more intently than everyone else. In an instant she shied away from him and looked back to Royce. "I can't talk for the rest of the female race, but personally I quite like both."

"Both?" Royce quirked an unconvinced eyebrow.

"Yeah." She shrugged. "Accents and facial hair. It's a good combination, right?"

"Doesn't help our argument much…"

"And that's my problem because…?"

" _Fuck it…_ " Meat scoffed behind her, a loud clinking sound signalling that he had dropped his bowl haphazardly into the sink. "We've already established that Bones has shit taste in men, right? So what she says makes fuck all difference anyway."

"Fucking watch it, mate…" Lara heard Ghost's warning beside her, but she didn't acknowledge it, her gaze instead fixed to her right. After answering Royce her eyes had slipped back to Mactavish and for a split second she had managed to hold his gaze, the captain attempting to casually sip at his coffee all the while, a small smile just visible across his lips. As soon as Meat had opened his mouth however, Mactavish had flinched away, his eyes focusing back on the reports lying open on the table in front of him. Lara was not so easily deterred and she had let hers remain, almost as though she was daring him to look back up at her.  _He didn't_.

"Bones?" Her eyes had torn away from Mactavish the second she'd heard Riley's voice and Lara spun round in her chair with a speed that should have given her whiplash. She attempted to give him a casual look but she doubted herself how convincing it actually appeared.

"What?"

"Back with us now?" He cocked an annoyed eyebrow, his eyes flitting up and down her face as though he was attempting to read her.

"I was just thinking."

"Sure you were." The lieutenant looked past her to Mactavish, the captain still oblivious as he continued to flick through his reports. His jaw stiffening slightly, Ghost's gaze moved back to hers. " _Typical_."

"What now?"

"You think I was born yesterday?" Riley rolled his eyes; leaning in that little bit closer, his voice low and hushed so that only she could really hear. "You're a real fucking kick in the teeth, you know that?"

"What the hell, Riley?"

"Christ…" For a split second he'd hesitated, the anger in his features lingering as he held her gaze that little bit longer. Defeated or at least thinking better of himself he shook his head, standing up almost reluctantly. "Anyone needs me, I'll be training."

No one really reacted and Riley was able to slip from the room relatively unnoticed, leaving Lara dumbfounded, her mind reeling over just what exactly she had managed to miss during the course of the last thirty seconds. Confused, she began to gather up her papers, figuring that although she might not know what to say to him, she should probably go after Riley all the same.

"I wouldn't bother." It took a moment for her to register just exactly what was happening and yet it still startled her, Archer's hand suddenly splayed out across one of her journals, preventing her from gathering it up from the table. She looked up quickly, her face questioning.

"Sorry?"

"I'd leave 'im if I were you." Archer's hand moved away as quickly as it had appeared, the sniper resting back in his chair. "Trust me, be easier that way."

"I don't-"

"Spare me the innocence act, yeah?" The sniper cut her off, shaking his head. "Me and Riley go back a long way. Leave him to me,  _alright?_ "

She had no idea why he was offering to help her but either way Lara figured that she had little choice but to defer to Archer's experience. For now at least…

* * *

Archer left it a good hour before he actually made his way to the gym. It was a deliberate move. Firstly because he figured that the release of pent up aggression on Riley's part would make his job one hell of a lot easier. And second? Because he didn't make a habit of chasing anyone around the base, even if it was his fucking prima donna of an XO.

He wasn't surprised to find the gym completely empty, in all honesty Archer was able to name at least 101 other places where he'd rather be himself as he stepped into the room, the only sounds frantic breathing and the beating of hands against leather. In the far corner of the room, Riley has his back turned, his arms swinging at the punching bag in a steady rhythm. He was obviously exhausted, his breathing not the only sign of his fatigue as sweat dyed the back of his t-shirt a dark green. Archer rolled his eyes, his presence either ignored or more likely, unnoticed. Taking a moment out to think, he stepped to the other side of the room, using the time to tape up his hands and watch Riley from afar. Not once did the lieutenant ever make any attempt to turn around.

He was determined to change that.

"No matter how hard you hit it, it still won't turn into her." Ghost immediately froze, holding the bag still in his taped hands and spinning round, his face drenched with sweat. He raised his eyebrow but didn't speak. "What? You think nobody in there noticed?"

"Fuck you, mate." Riley was already turning his back on him. "You know jack shit."

"Funny that." Archer rolled his eyes. "People always think that just 'cos I don't say much I'm fucking blind too." He shook his head. "Isn't true. If anything it's the opposite."

"Good for you."

"That all I get?" Archer let out a small laugh. "I'm disappointed."

"What did you want? A fucking heart to heart?"

" _Please_ …" Archer grinned, opening his arms wide in challenge as Riley finally turned around again. "I just thought you might want a target that actually fights back."

There was a brief moment of contemplation, Riley's brow furrowing, his jaw jutting out slightly as he weighed up his options. His decision came quickly and he stalked forwards, the armour that was his arrogant smirk suddenly back into place across his features. Standing on the sparring mat in the centre of the gym, he beckoned to Archer with both hands.

"You're on. Since you offered."

Archer didn't hesitate in the slightest, quickly moving himself so that he was stood in front of Ghost. Unlike in usual sparring matches there was little posturing to begin with, no time taken to size each other up as Riley came forward with a determined right hook. Or at least, it would have been had Archer not anticipated it, side stepping the blow whilst knocking it away with his right hand. Fists now clenched, he launched two punches of his own into Riley's waiting hands, the lieutenant's actions effectively blocking him whilst being slower and more fatigued than he was used to. Satisfied at testing these boundaries, Archer punched again, the action distraction enough for him to raise his right knee and hit Ghost in the stomach with enough force to knock him away spluttering.

"Maybe you're not the soft touch I thought you were." Riley coughed, although he was grinning as he straightened up and approached again.

"You've known me a long time." Archer shrugged, still on alert for Ghost's next move. "I've never been soft."

"Getting on a bit now though, ain't ya?"

"So are you… last I checked."

"Touché. But at least I've never pulled my punches."

This time Riley was on the full offensive, both his hands firing a flurry of jabs at Archer's torso and face. The speed of his strikes was the biggest challenge by far and Archer found himself losing ground quickly in his haste to block, his palms and forearms aching under the strain. In an ill thought out move he knocked away Riley's left hand, coming in with a strong right jab of his own. But he was countered, Ghost dodging his attack and reaching out with both hands, palms pushing down hard on his shoulder blades. Doubled over and effectively immobilised Archer could do nothing to stop the sweep of Riley's left leg and a sharp pain echoed through his abdomen at the roundhouse kick that reached his side, sending him tumbling backwards disorientated.

"Should have seen that one a mile off." Riley laughed, holding out his hand to Archer who quickly ignored it, standing unaided. He walked slowly around to the lieutenant's right, planning his next move.

"I was letting you win."

"Course you were." Riley gave him a self satisfied smirk. "Or maybe you've just developed a fondness for lying on your back?"

"What are you implying?" Ghost's comment cut a little deeper than he'd wanted it to and Archer raised a single eyebrow, stilling his movements.

"As if I'd ruin the fun by telling you." Riley shrugged, cracking his neck at one side. He stretched out his right arm, tensing his tricep. "Come on then… least try and prove you have some balls left…  _mate._ "

Events were taking a dangerous turn. Sure, Archer prided himself in being able to take a lot more of Riley's arrogant bullshit than most, but even he still had limits. And right then, there was no doubt that they were being tested.

They met head on, Archer's right arm swinging out towards Riley's face in a sturdy right hook whilst his left hand jabbed out towards his abdomen. Both actions were countered but Archer maintained the offensive, closing the distance between them with another flurry of punches. It was the same tactic that Riley had resorted to and the lieutenant attempted to counter with another roundhouse kick but Archer saw it coming, blocking him effectively with both hands. His opponent unsteadied by the action, Archer moved to capitalise, locking shoulders with Riley, his every thought focused on kneeing the annoying bastard in the stomach and putting him in his place. However, Ghost matched him and they became locked in a physical stalemate, both pushing to overcome the other. His muscles groaning under the strain, Archer pushed Riley's shoulders back with enough force to unbalance him, kicking out and sweeping the lieutenant's legs out from underneath him. Riley, now rendered helpless could only topple to the floor, the only sound emanating through the gym being the satisfying smack of his back and head bouncing off the mat.

"You were saying?" Archer smirked, his voice breathless yet triumphant all the same, hands resting idly at his waist. "Looks like I'm not the only one who likes spending time on their back."

" _Fuck off_." Riley merely grunted in response, his right hand rubbing at the back of his head.

"Problem? Or can't you take what you hand out?" Archer rolled his eyes. "The people you're fucking with might be able to take this shit, but believe me; some of us don't  _have_  to."

"And what about you? Eh, mate?" Riley spat. "Who puts up with all your shit?"

"That's different."

"It's the fucking  _same._ " The lieutenant smirked, standing slowly, defiant eyes never once leaving Archer's. "Don't you think?"

"Fucking watch it, Riley." The sniper's voice wasn't the only giveaway that he didn't like where the conversation was going, his shoulders squared as he pushed closer to Ghost.

"Or what?" Riley merely snarled in response, his face irrepressibly smug. "Face it...  _Jeff._  We've all got a bitch in this and I bet Toad takes everything that you fucking give him. Am I right?"

In Archer's experience, a face could tell a thousand words. If Riley's was anything to go by in the seconds before he was sent flying backwards, he had never expected the swift uppercut that hit him squarely in the nose. Not that it mattered. As far as Archer was concerned he deserved it along with far more.

It felt as if it had taken all the restraint in the world and then some not to hit him again as Archer stalked forwards, his hands messing into the olive fabric of Riley's t shirt at his neck. In a strong, defined movement he pushed him backwards; his grip close to choking, remaining firm even when Riley's back was already flat against the gym wall. By now the lieutenant's blue eyes were dark, almost unrecognisable; bubbling with confusion and anger in equal measure, blood already beginning to gush from his nose and splattering them both.

"Do I have your fucking attention now?" Archer spluttered, tightening his grip on Ghost's t shirt further so that the lieutenant was looking him dead in the eye. He was a good inch or so taller than Riley and intended to make every advantage of this fact as he pressed closer, his face inches from Ghost's. "Or do I have to fight my way past more of this arrogant bollocks first?"

" _Fuck you…_ " The lieutenant struggled, although his bitter features showed that even he knew when he was beaten. "I don't answer to you."

"Doesn't matter." The sniper adjusted their position, Riley's head bouncing against the wall from the action. "Because the way I see it I'm one of the few mates you have left. You owe me this much."

"Mates?  _Right_ …" Riley scoffed.

"You want to ostracise everyone in this task force? Fucking be my guest. You can even shag our medic until you're bloody blue in the face for all I care." The sniper paused, freeing up one hand so that it could grab Riley's bloodied chin, turning it towards him harshly. "But don't you dare forget what this task force is about. What  _we're_  about."

"Spare me the bleeding heart bollocks, Archer…"

" _Bollocks?_ " Archer rolled his eyes, banging Ghost against the wall again. "We started this fucking task force, remember that? You, me, Mactavish and Jimmy. We all had a past; we all decided to leave that at the door. We were chosen to be the best of the fucking best and do what no other fucker could."

"You think I've forgotten that?"

"Too right I fucking have." Archer sighed, finally letting go of Riley's t shirt with disgust. He took a step back, half expecting a punch to the face that never seemed to come. "You seem to think that treating the rest of us like the shit that came off your boot will achieve that."

"I am who I fucking am." Riley spat, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. "You know that better than most."

"And this last month or so you've been bloody  _worse_. You're supposed to be Simon fucking Riley, the twat who gets under everyone's skin but somehow manages to pull through in the end. We respect that. But recently?" The sniper shook his head. "You've been more fucked up than ever. I don't know what's changed but I can have a bloody good guess."

"And what the hell's that got to do with you, eh?"

"Fuck all." Archer replied bluntly. "But whatever you think you're doing, keep it under control. We don't need it, especially not fucking now. You should just count yourself lucky that Mactavish hasn't hammered your arse before I even had to."

"Mactavish is a coward."

"He's a fucking  _professional_ , something we could all do with remembering every once in a pissing while." Archer rolled his eyes. "You want to act like the big man?  _Fine._  But don't doubt for a second that the only thing stopping him from beating you within an inch of your life is his rank."

"Am I supposed to be scared?"

"No, but you're supposed to show some respect once in a while." Archer shook his head, wiping the blood off his hands and onto his jeans. He gave Riley a long, stern look, weighing up whether or not he was still a threat before turning his back on him, choosing to stride for the gym door. About halfway he stopped, looking over his shoulder, his voice at its very lowest. "Or at the very least do us all a favour, mate. Start fucking respecting yourself."

* * *

Subtlety, tact and restraint might have all been qualities she lacked but Lara was well aware that she made up for them all in blind stubbornness and determination. If she wanted answers, she'd damn well get them, no matter who told her to mind her own business and stay out of the way.

In her mind, Riley should have known better than to fuck off and leave her with a load of questions and precious few answers. He was just asking for trouble.

She'd made the executive decision not to go to the gym, since she figured Archer would be there by then and she had no desire to hear anything that might have been exchanged between them. Riley however always kept his bedroom locked and although she once learnt a very handy trick with hair pins, Lara doubted that it would work on the newer, more advanced locks on the base. Besides, right then breaking and entering was hardly another issue that she wanted to throw into the mix. For both of these reasons, she decided to stay in the rec room, logic telling her that for Riley to come back to his room he would have to pass by the open door at some point. It was bloody hard to sit and pretend to be reading her book whilst all the while she was looking up and around her, but after an hour of being left relatively undisturbed by the others Lara figured that she had at least made it work on some level.

She'd been beginning to lose her resolve when the loud slamming of a door had shunted her from her thoughts, her body jumping upright in her seat. She didn't really need much else to help her deduce it was Riley although the blur as he strode past the rec room certainly cemented the knowledge in her mind. Her book long forgotten and abandoned on the chair beside her, Lara stood up as quickly as she dared, stepping out into the corridor and making after him.

She reached him just as he was unlocking his door, his back turned to her as he kicked it open in blatant disgust, the key jangling within the lock. He'd caught sight of her enough to quickly step into the room but she ran the last few metres between them, reaching the door just in time to force herself in the way of it, shunting it open just enough for her to slip inside. If Riley had any real objection he didn't voice it, instead choosing to keep his back turned, his hands already beginning to tug his t shirt off over his head.

"Just going to ignore me then, is that it?" Lara rolled her eyes at his back, watching as his movements stilled for a moment. Riley merely chose to grunt in return, dropping the t shirt idly to the floor. She opened her mouth to speak again until something dark caught her attention on the t shirt, a deep crimson staining the green fabric. "You're bleeding? What the fuck happened?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Riley scoffed, although his back remained turned. "Piss off, Bones. I'm not in the mood for this."

" _Tough._ " She was striding forward without any real thought, her right arm reaching out and grabbing his wrist, tugging at him roughly so that he'd turn round. Reluctantly, more out of her persistence than strength he did, the face that greeted her hardly what she'd expected. His chin was bloodied and reddened, his skin already turning a light shade of purple across the bridge of his nose and underneath his eyes. The sight forced an involuntary hiss from her mouth in empathy. "What the hell, Riley?" She uttered for the second time that day, her hand automatically moving up to examine the damage.

"Archer." The lieutenant batted her hand away, taking a step back from her as though she was poisonous.

"He hit you?" She gave him a frustrated look. "What the hell did you do to him?"

"Always has to be me, doesn't it?" He rolled his eyes. "As if I'm the only psychotic bastard in this shithole."

"That wasn't what I meant…"

"Sure it fucking wasn't." He spun around, heading for the small mirror hung on the far well and examining the damage himself, tilting his head to one side in order to achieve a better view. When he spoke again his voice was low, about as contemplative a tone as Riley ever used. "What happens when its people antagonising me for a change, eh?"

"Like me you mean?" Lara watched him closely, her hands automatically finding her hips for lack of somewhere better to place them. "Is that what all this was about?"

"Well aren't you self important?" The lieutenant laughed. "Two blokes exchanging blows and you assume it has something to do with you?" He rolled his eyes. " _Please._ "

"So that shit in the rec room, what was that exactly? Just some random mood swing that I happened to get in the way of?" She shook her head slowly. "Sorry, Simon, but I'm not buying that."

"If I wanted to talk about it I'd have stuck around." Riley sighed, wincing slightly as his fingers probed the skin of his face. He didn't meet her gaze directly, but he did catch her reflection's glare in the mirror. "Just fucking  _leave_  it."

"No. I want answers, Simon. You don't just say that to me and then fucking _swan off."_

"Too bad." The lieutenant replied simply, finally turning around again to look her dead in the eye. "Sometimes we don't get what we want in life."

"Oh don't fucking give me that." She rolled her eyes. "I'm such a kick in the teeth? Fine, you just better have some fucking justification for it, that's all."

"You honestly don't know?" Riley scoffed. "I ain't spelling it out for you love, that's for fucking sure." He strode past her, collapsing down onto his bed, his hands hanging between his knees. When he spoke again he was only half looking at her, his gaze distant, focused more on the wall behind her head. "But I'm not as dead as you think I am sometimes."

"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Lara sighed, an anxious hand running through her hair. "This all comes out of the blue and I'm supposed to know exactly what the hell is going on here?"

"Oblivious, aren't you? Like I said, you're a fucking kick in the teeth."

"Christ, Riley!" She couldn't keep her voice low any longer, her arms raised in exasperation as she took what was supposed to be an intimidating step towards him. In reality she was just left feeling a little sheepish, but that did nothing to stop the frustration in her voice. "You treat me like a piece of meat and suddenly  _I'm_  the one being unfair?"

"As if I treat you like that…"

"Face it, Simon, it's the only way you know how to treat  _anyone_ these days. You don't know how to fucking relate to me so you treat me just like you treat the rest of the lads."

"I never lied to you about who I was. About  _what_  I was."

"Exactly." Lara rolled her eyes. "I fucking stand there and take it because deep down I know that it's what I signed up for when we started this sodding  _thing_." She shook her head incredulously. "But  _this_? All the talking in bloody riddles and mixed messages? I don't know what I'm supposed to do with  _this._ "

" _This?"_  Riley scoffed. "There is no this!"

"Then why do you even give a fuck, Riley? Really?" Bones blinked hard, her throat suddenly feeling impossibly dry. "Treat me like shit all you want but don't you dare turn around and complain at me for treating you the same way." She rolled her shoulders, tension creeping into her muscles, the tightness feeling almost suffocating across her back. "It's a fucking double standard."

"That make it easier for you, eh?" Riley laughed cynically. "Are you actually telling me that you  _want_  us to keep hating each other's guts?"

"What I want is some fucking consistency! You go from one extreme to the other. You tell me that there's no attachment and then you come out with shit like this." She rolled her eyes. "I don't know where I fucking am in all of this."

"And you think I do?" Riley laughed darkly, standing up so that he was only a few inches away from her. "Do you think I know what to do with half the shit floating around my head nowadays?"

"That's my fucking point! How can you expect me to understand this when you don't know what's going through your own skull?"

"Let's not pretend this is about me, alright, Bones?" Ghost shook his head, his face crumpled in sudden disgust. "With or without me, we both know  _exactly_  what you want."

"I don't know what you mean…"

"Course you fucking don't." Riley laughed softly, although there a deeper, saddened tinge to the sound. "What? You think I'm blind now as well as deaf?" He rolled his eyes. "I'm a lot of things, Bones, I know that. But an idiot sure as hell isn't one of them."

"That has nothing to do with you."

"Doesn't it?" Riley shrugged bluntly. "Whatever you say. But half of the time I swear it fucking does."

"Riley-"

"What?" He interrupted her as he sat down again, the action dismissive this time as he ran a hand across the top of his head. "Just fucking leave, alright? My head killing as it is."

"So that's it. You're just switching off now?"

"Don't I always when it matters?" He gave her a bitter smile. "I'm a ghost. Let's not try and make me anything more than that,  _ok?_ "

"Even after all the shit you've said?"

"Does any of it really matter?" Riley shook his head slowly, his thumbs rubbing at his temples. "We've already established that I have no fucking clue what's going on here. For all you know everything I've said could just be confused bollocks."

"And if it isn't?"

"Then I intend to fucking forget it as soon as possible. You should too." His eyes wearily met hers, the stern glare feeling as though it had the ability to burn straight through to the back of her head. "Now if you're done with the 20 questions…" He raised a hand, indicating over towards his bedroom door. "I think you've got somewhere to be. Preferably anywhere but here."

Lara opened her mouth to reply, a hasty apology all ready to spill from her lips. But for whatever reason she didn't let it out. Maybe it was her desire to simply get the hell of there that won, or maybe it was just the look in Riley's eyes that told her that her words would fall on deaf ears. Either way Lara found herself leaving Riley's room without any further hesitation.

* * *

It was one of those nights when all she really wanted to do was to collapse in her bed, pull the covers up over her head and escape reality through heavy sleep. So naturally with her mind alive and buzzing with thoughts, Lara's insomnia once again reared its ugly head.

If she hadn't considered it wholly unethical, she'd have prescribed herself a large dose of sleeping pills then and there. As it was, she figured that her medical ethics were some of last things she had left to cling to.

Tossing and turning in her bed wasn't helping, so Lara retreated outside for some fresh air, a baggy, thickly knitted woollen cardigan wrapped loosely around her shoulders. In her hands was the lighter and emergency packet of cigarette that Toad had bestowed on her over a week ago, her thumb idly rubbing across the ridges of the cardboard as she made her way out onto the Infirmary steps. Outside it was the same dismal scene as it had been during the day, the rain long since gone but the thick blanket of cloud still managing to blot out all of the stars above her head. The cold, damp air sent a shiver down the length of her spine but she ignored it, her brain forcing her limbs to sit down onto the top step, freezing water instantly beginning to seep through the fabric of her pyjama shorts.

She didn't want to think, her hands immediately looking for distraction as they pushed a cigarette in between her lips, her thumb clumsily fumbling with the lighter. After a couple of botched attempts the cigarette was lit, a comforting orange glow blazing in front of her features. On instinct, Lara sucked a breath inwards, a huge wave of heavy, sickening smoke pulled straight to the back of her throat, what felt like hot ash burning at her tongue and tonsils. She spluttered, pulling the offending object from her lips immediately, her chest heaving as she fought to correct her breathing.

For a singular moment, she was fifteen again, sitting at the bottom of her school field during their lunch break. Her friends had just lit up; roll up cigarettes with the cheap tobacco that they'd stolen from their older brothers. She'd taken a drag to feel part of something and had instantly wished she hadn't, her friends erupting into laughter as she choked and gagged over the foreign smoke. Up until then it had been simply been a memory that she regretted, something she cringed at whenever she remembered it. But that night it was a fond memory, a figment of a childish time when the biggest mistake she could really make was giving into her overbearing friends. It was a kind of simplicity that she found herself craving more and more the older she got.

"Well…" She'd been so lost in her thoughts, her eyes buried into the tarmac that Lara hadn't heard someone approach, only truly noticing them when a pair of black, battered boots homed into her vision. She quickly looked up, her mouth curving into a relieved smile when she saw Roach stood in front of her. "You're full of surprises." His mouth flickered into a kind smirk.

"Oh yeah." She laughed softly, lifting the cigarette that hung idly from her fingertips in indication. "….You know me. Like to keep things interesting."

"True. But I don't know what I should be more worried about. The fact that you're still conscious or the fact that you've succumbed to nicotine."

"I wondered what all the fuss was about." She shrugged, sucking in another drag in the process. It hit her as badly as the first and she dropped the cigarette to the floor amidst an angry coughing fit, stamping it out with her boot indignantly. Her voice reduced to little more than a croak; she gave up on attempting to hide her inexperience further. " _Fuck…_ "

"You're an appalling smoker." Roach laughed softly, sitting beside her on the step in a single fluid motion. He quickly reached inside his shirt for his own cigarettes, pulling one out for himself whilst holding the box out to her. "Want another try?"

"I think I prefer my lungs how they are… thanks."

"Can't say I'm not a gentleman though, right?" Roach grinned, lighting up himself. The brief silence as he took his first drag felt considered, thoughtful, almost as if he was weighing up his next sentence. "So… you gonna to tell me why you're sitting out here all alone?"

"Couldn't sleep." Lara shrugged bluntly.

"And so you decided that sitting out in the freezing cold was the best remedy?" Roach rolled his eyes affectionately. "I worry about you sometimes, Bones."

"Fucking laugh it up, mate." She nudged him in the arm, her face creasing into a small laugh. "How about you?"

"The same really. Came out for a smoke and saw you making a fool of yourself all the way over here." He smirked. "Would have been rude not to come and say hi."

"And like you said... you're  _such_  a gentleman." She gave him an overly gracious look. "So modest too."

"Hey, if you've got it…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You flaunt it." Lara shook her head, laughter spilling out into her words. She paused, thinking again, her voice taking on a more serious tone when she finally did speak. "You're a dying breed. You know that, right?"

Roach didn't seem to know what to say to that and once again they fell into an uneasy silence, the sergeant continuing to puff out breaths of smoke whilst all the while watching her carefully. Lara herself shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, fidgeting awkwardly, her head finally winding up in her hands. A drawn out, tortured sigh left her lips as she straightened up, her eyes fixed dead ahead rather than meeting Roach's eyes.

"I think I've fucked it all up, Gary." The words seemed to come naturally from her mouth, bringing with them an inexplicable lump at the back of her throat that she blamed on lack of sleep more than anything else. Slowly she edged closer to him, her head resting gently on his shoulder, the tension in her neck she hadn't realised she was even carrying instantly beginning to dissipate.

"Maybe you have." He didn't flinch away as she was half expecting, his right arm loosely winding around her shoulders and giving her arm a gentle, if awkward squeeze. "But I swear you've had one hell of a lot of help along the way."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" She laughed softly.

"In a way. Hell, we all fuck up without realising it, right?" He gave her a warm smile. "The part that really matters is what we do once we actually realise what we've done."

"And what do I do now?"

"Wish I could tell you. But I think we both know that I can't." He tilted his head to one side, giving himself a clearer view of her. "Not really."

" _Great…_ " Lara hissed. " _More_  thinking. My fucking favourite…"

As Lara let him finish his cigarette in peace, she was fully aware of just how much thinking she had left to do. After all, somewhere along the line she'd managed to fuck it all up. That part had been simple. Now all she was left with was the mammoth task of putting it all back together again. Somehow she very much doubted that mending her mistakes would come to her as easily as making them had in the first place...


	17. Hearts Under Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

**12.00am**

Lara rolled over just in time to see her digital alarm clock flick over in the gloom. She sighed, her eyes fixed on the glowing red numbers. After many long years in the army she was well used to spending her birthdays in the unfamiliar, far from home and even further from her family. To be so removed from the people she loved had simply become another aspect of her work.

That being said, it never really had gotten any easier.

Beside her alarm clock lay an unopened letter, the intricate, swirling writing on the front unmistakably that of her mother. She'd been putting off opening it for days, the card inside taunting her, increasing the guilt that sat in her stomach ten fold. Since her father had died albeit almost four years ago, Lara had attempted to be there as much as she could for her grieving mother. However there was simply no denying the fact that her work had almost always called her away, risking her life and repaying her mother with the added fear that someday she might lose her only daughter too.

And yet, despite not knowing exactly where she was or just what exactly she might be doing, she'd still always send her a card, clinging to the traditions that had always kept them so close as a family unit.

Lara groaned, turning over onto her back, her hands knotted behind her head. Darkened shapes danced across the grey of the ceiling in her vision and she blinked them back, closing her eyes and attempting to at least quieten her thoughts. It was completely hopeless. As just as soon as she had pushed the faces of her family out of her mind, their memory was replaced by an altogether more painful presence.

" _Hey…" There'd been a soft blow to the back of her calves, jolting Lara from her thoughts immediately. She looked up; her eyes feeling blurred and strained from her constant staring. The man in front of her chuckled, swiping the unruly strands of ginger hair out of his eyes with one hand whilst waving the offending pool cue at her with the other. "You're doing it again."_

" _What?" Lara decided ignorance was bliss as she stepped past Richards and surveyed the state of their current game._

" _Zoning out. I feel like I'm talking to a brick wall."_

" _With you, Andy, it makes little difference." She rolled her eyes affectionately. "I can never get a bloody word in edgeways anyway."_

" _Oh har har. Still, it's no fun when you're letting me win."_

" _You_ _ **always**_ _win."_

" _Yeah, but I can tell when your heart's not in it." He paused, reaching for the two beer bottles balanced on the corner of the pool table and handing one of them to her. "Come on, McCoy. We're supposed to be celebrating here."_

" _Sorry…" Softening slightly, Lara bit her lip, worrying the skin with her teeth. "I do appreciate all this." She eyed him guiltily, shrugging to their surroundings, the white washed common room walls adorned with a few glisteningly tacky gold and red birthday banners. The other men were sat around them chatting, steadily working their way down the crate of bottled beer that Richards had bought that morning. It was hardly a party that would see any of them drunk in the barracks, but it was more social than the plans Lara had made herself. "I guess I'm just not in the mood for celebrating."_

" _You always have to be brooding over something, don't you?" Richards threw back a long pull of beer, his tone bordering on irritated. "You thinking about him again? That fucking Toby?"_

" _No." McCoy tried to hold back a shudder at the mere mention of the name. Their break up might have been six months ago, but the memory itself was still a bitterly painful one. "For once I was actually thinking about myself."_

" _And that's a bad thing?"_

" _More often than not." She shrugged. "I'm being stupid… it doesn't matter."_

" _Doesn't matter?" Richards laughed, leaning against the pool table beside her so that their arms were just touching. "Back home I have a three year old who makes me check the wardrobe for monsters every night. Trust me, nothing is_ _ **too**_ _stupid." He gave her a smile that only ever appeared when he mentioned his family. "But seriously, if something's bothering you then tell me. I can handle it."_

" _The great Sgt. Richards eh? Soldiering by day and fighting bed bugs at night." Lara chuckled softly, swallowing a good measure of beer from her bottle. She paused as the sour liquid slipped down her throat, her lips pursed in deep thought. "I'm fucking twenty seven, Andy."_

" _I'm twenty four, what's your point?"_

" _That I've achieved nothing?" Lara shook her head slowly. "My mum was married and had my brother at this point."_

" _Since when have you dreamed of familial bliss?" Richards laughed. He reached out, tugging gently at the maroon beret that stuck out of Lara's shirt pocket, a clear symbol of the Parachute regiment. "And more to the point, what do you call this?" His eyes narrowed into a serious look. "You worked damn hard to get here, McCoy. We all did. Are you honestly telling me that you call that_ _ **nothing**_ _?"_

" _Course not." She sighed heavily. "But this just isn't where I planned to be."_

" _Because life always goes to plan, right?" Richards rolled his eyes, giving her a sharp nudge. "Come on, McCoy. There are enough people in the world wallowing in self pity who deserve to. Don't add yourself to that list for no apparent reason." He turned around abruptly, nodding towards the pool table where they'd already managed to pot half of the balls. "Now, are you going to let me embarrass you again or are we going to stand here snivelling all night?" He held the pool cue out to her expectantly. "As always, it's your choice."_

Andrew Richards, the one man she should have been able to save and yet was powerless to. She hated remembering him as that, the image of the dead man she'd been forced to leave behind in a busy field hospital wing, his lifeless body only a mere fragment of the man he'd been barely an hour before. After all, he was so much more than that, had meant so much more to  _her_. He had been the first person to totally accept her presence in the Paras, the best friend who came to serve as her confidante when her own brother was suddenly so far away. He'd been brutally honest, fiercely loyal and despite everything he'd seen he never seemed to lose the positivity and optimism that some nights was all they had to rely on.

She didn't need to guess what he'd be telling her now, the disapproving, exasperated look that would be written across his features. As much as he had been an optimist, Lara had always been a pessimist, the other side of the coin that would always frustrate him. Just as much as Lara would always dwell on what she couldn't change, on problems that she could never really solve, he would be intent on living for the day, on squeezing the most out of life at every turn. It had been what Lara had always admired the most about him.

McCoy smiled to herself in the gloom, realisation suddenly hitting her with resounding force.

For once, the memory of Richards suddenly didn't feel like such a sad one. It might have been a whole year since he said those words to her but that didn't mean that they carried any less meaning. He'd been right then and as much as Lara was loathed to admit it he was still right. She'd spent too long wallowing in self pity, agonising over mistakes and choices that she couldn't go back and alter, worrying over a future that was suddenly so unsure. But now was the time to change all that, to start afresh. Her situation might not have been ideal but there was no reason on earth why she couldn't handle that.

After all, she'd experienced far worse.

* * *

Summer was coming. The mornings were brighter, the days longer, night suddenly feeling like an afterthought crammed into the tail end of the day. Back home, Gary Sanderson had lived for those long, heated days, for hour after hour of brilliant sunshine and warmth where he and his friends had the freedom just to do whatever the hell they liked.

But now? Now summer was almost like an unfortunate affliction, the heated morning sun making training damn near unbearable. In winter, their physical training was harsh and brutal, the cold unforgiving as it bit at his already aching limbs. But in summer with what already felt like a bucket of sweat cascading down his back, the morning's training drills suddenly became all the more tortuous.

" _Oi_ , Roach? Can I have a word?" It was more of a statement rather than a question, the strong, cockney accent instantly recognisable.

"A word?" Gary straightened up, not bothering to turn around as Ghost moved to his side, a towel slung over his right shoulder. By now the majority of the others had headed back into the barracks, all of them intent on a shower and refuelling with the usual post training feast that awaited them. It was same drill every morning and more often than not Roach found himself fantasising about his breakfast as he ran. Regardless, Gary lunged forwards, leaning on his left knee, his right calf burning as he stretched. He craned his neck round to give Riley an expectant look. "Go on then. As long as that's  _all_  it is."

"Very funny, mate." Ghost rolled his eyes, dabbing at his face and neck with his towel. He indicated over to the far end of the training yard, his voice low. "In private, yeah?"

Now Riley did have his attention. As far as Roach was aware, the lieutenant never asked for anything of anyone, or at least as little as he could help it. Besides, even if he did Mactavish was usually the only one to ever actually hear it first hand. It was practically unheard for him to ever want to speak in private with anyone else on the base.

"I'm listening…" His sweat dampened vest top sticking to his skin, Gary leant backwards against the wall, arms folded tight across his chest. He waited a moment for Ghost to reply but the lieutenant remained silent, almost swaying on the spot. He was fidgeting awkwardly, a gloved hand absently swiping against his nose, the bruising from Archer's well timed blow practically healed. " _Well?_  What's the problem?"

"Who said I had a problem?" Riley's reply was almost instantaneous and wholly defensive.

"No one, but you're hardly the type of guy who likes private chats." Gary rolled his eyes. He stepped away from the wall, his features irritated. "If you're just going to waste my time then I'm out of here."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Gary… I want your bloody advice,  _alright?_ " The lieutenant groaned, his hand messing through his hair. He didn't meet the sergeant's eye but the exasperation in his voice was enough to stop him in his tracks.

"My  _advice?_  About what?" He watched Riley indicate awkwardly over his shoulder to where Lara and Toad were stretching out together in the middle of the yard, their exhausted laughs just audible. "…  _Bones?_ " Roach tried to hold back a snort, clicking his tongue against his teeth instead. "I don't think that's a good idea, Riley. The last time you and me  _chatted_  about Lara I ended up with a fat lip."

"Yeah and as I remember it I didn't look so hot myself after you were done with me." The lieutenant grunted. "Besides, I don't want to talk about that.  _That_  is still none of your fucking business."

"Then what else is there to talk about?"

"Her birthday today, isn't it?" Ghost finally met his gaze, his tone that little bit lighter than it had been previously.

"What's it to you?"

"Oh  _come off it_ , Roach." Riley rolled his eyes. "I'm allowed to give a shit."

"Really?" Gary laughed darkly. "First time for everything I guess. But for what it's worth, yeah,  _it is_. A few of us are headed to her room tonight for some drinks."

"She's not doing something in the rec room later?" If Roach hadn't known him better he would have sworn that there was a tinge of hurt in Riley's voice.

"She doesn't want to make a big deal out of it. Can hardly blame her really. I'm surprised she even told you in the first place."

" _She didn't_."

"I wonder why." Roach shook his head. "Either way, I've probably told you too much as it is." He moved away from the wall again, inching his way past Riley. "So if that's all you wanted…"

"… What does she like?" The words practically tumbled out of Ghost's mouth, hanging awkwardly between them, his hand jutting out in front of Gary's body to stop him.

"Excuse me?"

"As in for her birthday. Customary to get her something she actually  _likes_ , right?"

"You have got to be kidding me." This time a laugh slipped past Roach's lips before he could stop it earning him an angered look from Riley. "You're actually buying birthday presents now?"

"Just answer the fucking question."

"I'm not sure I can. She told us all not to bother."

" _Real_ helpful, mate."

"You want me to be helpful now?" Gary rolled his eyes. "Alright,  _fine_ , I'll give you a hint. If you actually want to show her that you give a damn, why don't you just  _act_  like it first?" He raised an eyebrow, turning so that he had Riley's full attention. "Drop the bravado for a second maybe."

"Has she said all that to you?"

"She doesn't mention you." Roach shrugged, content for his comment to be as blunt as possible. "But its common sense. If you talk to her like you talk to us anyway. Hell, why don't you go crazy and even ask her how she's feeling?"

"Stop acting like you know what we talk about." Riley rolled his eyes.

"Obviously not that much, if you're asking  _my_  advice, don't you think?" The sergeant shook his head. He half expected an angered reaction from Riley but oddly he received none, the lieutenant's eyebrows merely furrowing in a strange mix of confusion and irritation. Wrong footed, Roach let his guard slip, his tone softening slightly in the process. "Look, I don't know what goes on between you two. Believe me, I don't _want_  to. But I do know that Bones expects nothing from you, not even today." He sighed. "So if I were you I'd just drop it and pretend that you never knew, ok?"

"And if I do think of something?"

"Then she better fucking like it." He laughed darkly. "Because if you screw today up for her I  _will_ break your nose all over again."

* * *

There'd only been a few times in her life where she'd been genuinely lost for words. But right then, with Mactavish standing in front of her, sheepishly holding out a suspiciously bottle shaped present; Lara could officially say that it was one of those times.

She'd been leaving the others to their usual raucous conversations in the rec room, crumbs spraying and voices raised as Royce and Meat started yet another heated debate, the rest of the men content to chip in so long as they could cram as much food into their mouths as possible between sentences. In short doses Lara found it tolerable, often quite amusing but after a while Greg's stereotypical comments would begin to grate and she would hear the call of her office. Fortunately there was a supply of medical reports that she always meant to fill out yet managed to avoid, the perfect reason for her to excuse herself from the rec room with little difficulty. The happy side effect? With everyone believing that she was constantly snowed under with paperwork she could get a few precious hours to herself before the rest of the day's training.

So when Mactavish met her head on in the corridor, she'd expected only a passing nod as he made his way to join the others. Instead he'd caught her by the elbow and pulled her back to his room. It had hardly been a gentle gesture, but it had definitely been a cautious one.

"Go on then…" He held the present further out to her, nudging it against her hands. "Open it."

"How did you-"

"I'm your CO; I have your personal records." He paused, obviously rethinking the statement as Lara finally took the parcel from his grasp. "Not that I make a habit of reading up on you."

" _Clearly…_ " Lara laughed, turning the present over in her hands so that she could feel the liquid slosh around within the confines of the glass. It wasn't the most beautiful wrapping she had ever seen, the thick beige paper creased around the smooth contours of the bottle with little finesse, but she didn't care. Easing her thumbs under the paper flap she pried the wrapping open, slowly pulling the bottle out into the light and turning the label upright so that she could read it, her mouth dropping open in surprise as she did so. "… You  _can't_ give me this."

"Too late." Soap rolled his eyes, his mouth cracking into a small smile. "In my opinion it's the best whisky you can get. The last I heard you were complaining about the booze around here so I thought this might help."

"You actually listened to that?"

"Obviously." The captain laughed. "I'm capable of listening and even  _remembering_  every so often." He cleared his throat, nodding to her courteously. "Anyway, it's yours. Think nothing of it."

" _Nothing?_ " Lara scoffed. "It's a 16 year old single malt… it's got to have cost a small fortune…"

"And? I'd pay a hell of a lot more than that for a taste of home." He shrugged softly, pointing to the label. "Speaking of which, this is Glen  _Elgin_ whisky, my home town." He let out a quick laugh. "So granted, I might be a little biased."

"Thank you." Lara smiled warmly, pushing the bottle back into the paper. "Really. You didn't have to."

"I hate it when people say that. If I didn't want to then I wouldn't have given it you, alright?"

"Yeah, I guess. Either way, it would be a crime to drink it without you. You should swing by tonight and I'll pour you a glass." She tilted the bottle towards him suggestively. "I'm not planning on getting shitfaced, don't worry. I just figured that I'm mature enough to enjoy a quiet drink with a couple of friends."

"I would, but I probably shouldn't." Running a hand across the top of his head, Mactavish bit his lip, momentarily avoiding her gaze. For a moment Lara dreaded what he might say next, whether or not he would choose to bring up the last time they had drunk together. Neither of them had spoken of that night since and although she felt that it was better off left forgotten, Lara was unsure as to whether or not the captain shared her sentiments. Finally, after what had felt like an agonising silence, Soap spoke again, his tone almost reluctant. "I mean, I need a clear head for tomorrow."

"Why tomorrow?" Lara raised a curious eyebrow; hopefully masking the relief that otherwise might have flooded her features.

"We're getting a new recruit." Soap smiled weakly. "Your days as our FNG are definitely over."

"And you haven't told the others?"

"I will, but in fairness I don't know all that much myself." The captain shrugged, a long sigh escaping his lips. "It's not exactly your standard 141 transfer."

"Are you able to tell me about it?"

"I guess so, by tomorrow it's not gonna be a secret anyway." Mactavish paused, moving over to his bed and perching on the end. "His name is Joseph Allen, a Private First Class with the Rangers. Aside from some commendations for his work in Afghanistan he's pretty unremarkable."

"And that's a problem?"

"Not a problem exactly, but it's…  _odd_. I mean he's physically fit enough for this, his Pit and PFT scores are well up there for him to be viable for the 141. But that's not what gets me."

"Then what is?"

"The fact that Shepherd selected him from the Rangers almost a month ago." Soap shook his head slowly. "Usually, Shepherd likes his transfers to go nice and quickly, like with you. He's hardly a man who's just content to sit back and hesitate."

"I remember that much." Lara smirked, moving so that she was stood directly in front of Soap. "But I don't get it. If this Allen has already been recruited then why isn't he here now?"

"My point exactly. Shepherd has a role in other units as well as the 141. As far as I can tell, Allen's been training with one of them for the past three weeks."

"Specialist training, maybe?"

"Could be, but if I'm getting a specialist I usually get warning before hand." Mactavish rolled his eyes. "Besides, Shepherd's given me express orders not to put Allen on any active missions unless the orders come specifically from him." He gave Lara a blank look. "Usually he doesn't involve himself with telling me who I can and can't assign to operations."

"So he has to be saving Allen for something? Or at least investing in him, right?"

"You'd think, but its all blind speculation whichever way you look at it." He sighed. "I'd rather you kept the fact that he isn't on active duty to yourself, though. It's not like its classified but he's going to have enough trouble as it is without the others thinking that he's getting special treatment as well."

"I can relate." Lara grimaced.

"In this task force you have to earn your place, it's just the way it is." Mactavish stated bluntly. "We're elite soldiers trained to expect the worst in absolutely everyone. It's only natural that we all have trust issues."

"Some more than others..."

"True enough." Soap paused, his hand absently rubbing across his jaw line. "I learnt a long time ago not to question Shepherd unless I had to, but I'd give anything to know what the hell he's planning. Right now it's just making me feel uneasy."

"What were you saying about trust again?" Lara laughed softly. "Sure Shepherd isn't always the easiest boss to handle, but think about it. Has he ever really given you reason not to trust him?"

"I guess not." Soap shook his head. "But it's not so much about trust and more about him withholding intel. If he's got something on Makarov then I don't understand why he's not telling me about it."

"I guess its Shepherd's prerogative to decide what intel he shares and what he doesn't. The way I see it you don't need to be worrying about what he is and isn't holding to his chest. Your priority is your men, right?"

"And that sounded as if it came straight from Sandhurst." Soap laughed softly, standing up. "You can tell that you're an officer."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Lara grinned. "You never quite lose it."

"Clearly. Keep defending Shepherd and you'll share my rank in no time."

"A captain?" Lara smirked. "Way too much micro management for my liking. I'd much rather follow orders and play doctor if you don't mind." She paused, glancing down at the bulky sports watch that hung off her right wrist. "Which is something I should  _really_  be getting back to."

"All work and no play, eh? You certainly aren't lacking in dedication."

"I think that is a quality all of us share, don't you?" Lara laughed, stepping backwards purposefully towards the door.

"Possibly, but still try and take a bit of time out for celebration, ok?" Soap nodded to the bottle in her hands. "You can take that as an order."

"Of course, sir." She waved her left hand at him in mock salute, before giving him a more genuine smile. "And like I said, thank you."

"Not a problem. Just try not to drink it all at once. A malt like that is meant to be  _savoured._ " The room descended into silence as Lara opened the door, checking the corridor for anyone else before she stepped out. "Oh and Bones?"

"Yeah?"

"I almost forgot.  _Happy Birthday_."

With a grateful nod, Lara let the door slip shut behind her, the corridor suddenly plunged into a brief silence. Down the hall she could hear some jeers from the rec room, the voices distant enough for their meaning to be lost. Lara smiled, her gaze slipping to the bottle in her hands as she made her way out of the barracks. Sure, some damn fine whisky was a great way of celebrating her birthday, but unbeknownst to himself Soap had given her another, far more subtle present. After all, knowing that he was comfortable enough to confide in her had Lara grinning more than she would have liked to admit...

* * *

"It seems you're determined to break 141 conventions whatever you do." Ozone smiled, handing a can of beer towards Lara. They were both sat cross legged on her bed, Toad and Roach directly opposite them albeit seated on the floor.

"How so?" Bones replied with an amused smirk, opening the chilled can with a satisfying  _pop_.

"He's referring to that dick you seem to be lacking." Toad rolled his eyes, kicking back so that his legs were at full stretch. "Oh and the fact that you've chosen to celebrate your birthday  _quietly_."

"What can I say? I do things my way." McCoy smirked. "Just goes to show that I've got bigger balls than the rest of you obviously."

"Or you're just getting boring." Roach grinned, downing what remained of his own beer and crushing the can in his palm. "You're the oldest here after all."

"Cheers, Gary." Bones rolled her eyes although a smirk remained fixed on her features. "Lesson one when talking to women.  _Never_  remind them of their age. Especially when they're older."

"Lesson two is to never tell them that they've gained a couple of pounds." Toad grinned.

"As if you've  _actually_  done that."

"In my defence I meant it as a joke at the time." The sniper laughed. "But believe me, that particular ex packed one _hell_  of a slap."

"You're such a dick." Ozone scoffed.

"And yet they still seem to find me attractive." Chris smiled, taking an almost triumphant sip of his beer. He spluttered, his face twisting in disgust. "What the fuck is this  _shit?_ "

"Beer, apparently." Ozone eyed his own can suspiciously. "Don't look at me… Gary brought it."

"Where the hell did you get it?"

"Rec room." The sergeant shrugged casually. "Found it in one of the cupboards. Think it's Royce's… I wouldn't mention it if I were you."

"The man clearly has no taste." Lara grimaced although she forced herself to take another drink, unable to stop her face from doubling in disgust. "It's almost…  _sweet?_  What else do we have?"

"Russia's finest." Toad smirked proudly, reaching down by his side and producing a large bottle of vodka. "At least it'll kill the taste."

"You told me that you were out." Gary gave the sniper a wary look.

" _I_  was. Fortunately Archer  _wasn't_." Toad grinned, taking the glasses that Lara handed down to him and beginning to fill each one with a considerable amount of clear liquid. " _Now_ … who's for a game of Never Have I Ever?"

Ten shots of vodka later, along with the occasional swig of vile lager and Lara's head was happily swimming in and out of focus. The game, mainly under Toad's steerage had become ridiculous rather quickly and Lara had been thankful of her relatively mundane childhood in comparison to the others, even Ozone's. To add insult to injury the ending rounds of the game had seemingly been aimed towards getting him as drunk as possible with statements such as "Never Have I Ever been Canadian". As a result the poor man was quickly becoming the worse for wear out of all four of them, his head cradled in his hands after his last, rather large shot.

"This is  _bullshit_." Ozone groaned, rubbing at his temples wearily. "I swear no one said this was going to be one of  _those_  nights."

"We said  _quiet_ drinks, not uneventful drinks." Toad grinned. "In my mind quiet just means that Gary and Meat aren't in the same room at the same time."

"Or you and bloody Royce." Lara shook her head. "If I hear one more argument about music between you two I may lose it..."

" _Please_ , the man wouldn't know decent music if it bit him in the ass. There's a reason why the 90's are better off forgotten."

" _Hey!_  That was the music of my childhood!" Lara protested.

"Exactly. Back when you didn't know better." The sniper grinned, draining the rest of his glass of vodka in an instant.

"Oh really?" Lara cocked a smug eyebrow. "And who says I know better nowadays?"

"No one. But that's the beauty of it. In ten years time you'll be able to look back on all this and admit that you knew fuck all then too."

" _Deep._ " Roach smirked, subconsciously twirling his lighter through his fingers. He'd announced that he was going out for a smoke about half an hour before but still hadn't quite got around to it. "And here was me thinking that you were just a dumb shit like the rest of us, Chris."

"Speak for yourself!" Ozone interjected, slamming his hand on his leg. By this point he was sitting hunched on Lara's bed, his back pressed against the wall and his legs drawn up beneath his chin. He leant forwards as if to argue his point further but instead wavered slightly, grunting and slumping back against the wall. "Shit… I feel wasted."

"Probably because you are, bro." Roach laughed softly. "I haven't seen you drink this much in….  _ever_."

"If it helps, I'm feeling pretty rough myself." Lara added.

"And he's drunk at least twice what you have." Gary smirked.

"Thanks for the reminder." The Canadian winced, his fingers rubbing at his eyes. "If I didn't know better I'd say that Chris engineered this whole situation just to see me pissed."

"Is it really my fault you're such a lightweight when it comes to drinking?" The sniper replied, flashing them all a mischievous smile. "You should really be thanking me for the practice."

"Oh sure… I'm all _kinds_  of grateful." Ozone rolled his eyes. "And when I'm struck down with a hangover tomorrow I'll know just who to thank."

"Think of it this way, it'll sure make training interesting." Lara sighed, placing what remained of her own drink on the floor with clear distaste. "For me included."

"It gets worse." Roach chipped in.

"How?

"Word is that Riley's leading training tomorrow morning instead of Mactavish. We all know what that means… three hours of the most barbaric drills known to man."

"I'm so  _screwed._ " Ozone groaned, clamping his eyes firmly shut.

"Sure has been nice knowing you." Toad chuckled. "If you don't make it then I'm shot gunning your porn collection."

" _Dick_."

"Hey, don't blame me, it's not like I'm the one calling the shots, is it?" Chris took a quick swig of vodka straight from the bottle, seemingly unaware as to how quiet the room around him had suddenly become. Carrying on regardless he let out a loud laugh. "Besides everyone knows that Riley is a sadistic bastard at the best of times."

" _Yeah._ " An altogether new, passive voice suddenly entered the mix, cutting Toad off before he could say anymore. "I get that a lot."

She'd seen him in the doorway only seconds before, but by then it had been too late to shut Toad up, the sniper quite eloquently digging himself into a large hole. In all truth Lara had expected Ghost to look altogether more agitated than he did, the lieutenant instead wearing that same, obnoxious smirk that by now seemed to serve more as a second mask for him to hide behind. From his vantage point on the floor, Lara watched as Toad slowly turned round, his voice unfazed as he nodded to Riley in acknowledgement before addressing them all as a whole.

"Someone could have fucking  _told_ me he was there."

"And where would the fun in that be, eh, mate?" Ghost laughed quickly, taking a confident step into the room. When he spoke again his tone may have been light but his eyes practically burned into Lara's. "Now is this a private little party or is anyone allowed to join in?"

"I didn't think you'd be interested."

"Still wouldn't mind being invited though." The lieutenant shrugged, nodding to Roach. "Wouldn't have known a thing if Gary here hadn't mentioned it."

"You could have asked."

"Really isn't my style though, is it?" Riley shook his head, moving forwards and retrieving the half empty vodka bottle from the floor. He shook it gently in his hands. "So, who's for another drink?"

"No way…" Ozone was the first to move, standing surprisingly quickly, his feet staggering slightly whilst he fought to regain his balance. He shook his head as though the action might clear his thoughts, his face crumpling in disappointment when he remained just as drunk as before. "It's high time I just said  _no_."

"Yeah and I've dug myself enough holes to last me a lifetime." Toad was the next to move, clambering his way up off the floor. He looked to Roach who was busy fishing out his cigarettes from his back pocket. "How about you, Gary? You finally gonna smoke those?"

"I think I might." The sergeant nodded, moving after them both as they headed straight for the door. Just as he reached it, Roach swung around, a cigarette already clasped between his fingers. "We'll see you around, Bones."

After that the room was suddenly plunged into a deep silence. Lara watched her bedroom door swing shut, the loud noise causing her to flinch even though she was expecting it. She coughed, adjusting her position on the bed so that she was sat cross legged, her eyes watching Ghost curiously. For once there wasn't even a hint of a smart comment on his tongue as he sat down on the bed beside her, idly tossing the vodka bottle around in his hands between his knees.

"So…" The silence had felt almost deafening before Riley had finally spoken, white noise crackling in her ears with a harsh intensity. The lieutenant's voice was low although it possessed a forced lighter quality, almost as if he was trying to poke fun at the situation with little success. "You really didn't want me here,  _eh?_ "

"Do we have to do this now, Simon?"

"Do what? I was just stating fact." Riley leant forwards, his shoulders hunched. "You've been avoiding me for a week now." He scoffed in response to the bemused expression on her face. " _What?_  Didn't you expect me to notice or something?"

"We didn't exactly part on the best of terms."

"And?" He rolled his eyes. "Doesn't mean you can just blank me, does it?"

"Technically I can do what the hell I like." Lara spat.

"You know what I bloody mean."

"I'm not sure I do. As far as I can see I've done  _nothing_  wrong." Lara rolled her eyes bitterly. "So you don't get laid for a week, big fucking deal."

" _Christ…_ " By this point Riley was already unscrewing the bottle, tipping his head back so that a good slug of alcohol could force its way down his throat. He spluttered, replacing the cap and turning so that he finally met her gaze head on. "As if that was the point I was trying to make."

"Then what the hell  _are_  you trying to say, Riley? Because lately you've been making fuck all sense."

"Tell me about it." He sighed, his head hanging loosely from his shoulders once more. "What I was trying to say is that you can't just  _fuck off_ , you know? Pull the whole disappearing act on me." His back muscles suddenly tightening beneath his t shirt, Riley took a deep breath inwards, his eyes blinking hard. "I let you in. Do you know how few people have actually managed to get me to do that?"

"You let me in?" Lara scoffed. "Is that what shagging is now?"

"Just because it didn't feel any different to you doesn't mean that it didn't happen." Riley shook his head. "What? Do you really think I let just  _anyone_  into my room? I told you more about my past that night than I've told anyone else in five fucking  _years_."

"So you opened up to me.  _Once._ " Lara laughed darkly. "What do you want? A medal or something?"

"For fuck's sake!" The fire she was so used to seeing in his eyes was suddenly back as Riley snapped his neck round to look up at her again, his voice an angered hiss. "Don't you sodding get it? You've been so fucking persistent that  _congratulations_ , you've actually managed to get under my skin." He straightened up, visibly trying to control his tone with a deep breath, his grasp tightening around the neck of the bottle. "And now you're there I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do about it."

In an instant, Lara's world suddenly felt as if it had been turned upside down. She opened her mouth to speak but words were suddenly lost on her, coherent sentences managing to escape her tongue. Her brow furrowed, McCoy attempted to process the situation through her mind again, her tongue darting out to wet her dry, anxious lips.

" _What?_ "

"I can't spell it out for you anymore than that." Riley shrugged bluntly.

"You're messing with me."

"I'm fucking  _not_." He let out another pained sigh. "I give a shit,  _ok?_  I don't know if it's you or if it's just the fact that I'm beginning to care again but…" He appeared to run out of words, his mouth remaining open silently. Blinking hard again, Riley watched her reaction closely. "… there it is."

"And you're being totally serious about all this?"

"Do I  _look_  as if I'm pissing about here?" Ghost rolled his eyes. "'Course I'm being bloody serious."

"Then I… don't know what you want me to say…"

"How about you don't say anything? I'd rather avoid a fucking heart to heart if it's all the same to you."

"I think it's a bit late for that." Lara laughed weakly, edging her way towards him for lack of anything more constructive to say or do.

"Yeah… well…" The lieutenant shrugged. "Don't make it  _more_  of one then."

It was far simpler for her to just accept that the alcohol fuelled haze in her brain had robbed her of all words as Lara inched forwards, kneeling beside him on the bed. She wanted to smile at him and offer some kind of reassurance but the gesture felt patronising and so instead she settled on resting a hand on his shoulder, her grip guiding him around to face her. Riley himself chose to remain still, sub consciously handing her sole control of just what exactly came next.

Kissing him now came with a whole host of new complications but Lara's mind paid them no attention as she leant forwards, crushing her lips against his. Riley returned the kiss almost instantly and suddenly it was as if nothing had changed, their mouths finding the steady, passionate rhythm that they had perfected over the past weeks. Almost automatically calloused hands found their way to the hem of Lara's vest top, yanking it upwards over her head, a spark of cold suddenly firing across the freshly exposed skin. McCoy groaned, the mouth covering hers deepening the kiss as Riley slowly pushed her backwards against the mattress, his body weight carefully distributed on top of her. Soon, greedy, impatient hands raked across all the right parts of her torso, deft fingers suddenly dipping down to undo the fastenings of her jeans.

In an instant Riley's mouth was lost from her own, his lips moving to work their way across her jaw and neck, a multitude of knowing nips and sucks peppering her skin. Lara arched her back, stretching upwards into the action, her own mouth spreading into a satisfied grin as Riley's head began to move further down, his lips drawing a damp trail down her sternum. Her hands suddenly threading their way through his hair, Lara pulled him away gently, encouraging him to lift his head and look her in the eye. When she spoke her voice was hoarse and dry, her body silently reprimanding her for breaking the contact.

" _Wait_ …"

"What's wrong?"

"If we're doing this…" Lara nodded quickly, suddenly feeling ridiculous. She tried to scrape together the right combination of words from the hazy mess that now was her brain but her speech was nowhere near as eloquent as she would have liked. "I'm not your whore, Simon."

"I know that."

"Then don't treat me like one. Especially not tonight." She shook her head slowly, her fingers tips absently massaging at his scalp. " _Ok?_ "

She wasn't entirely sure if he had caught her meaning but either way Lara was left with little time to argue, the mouth that by now knew her so well suddenly returning to her skin, feverish kisses gathering in intensity the lower down her abdomen they landed. Lost now to pure, base instinct Lara let her head fall back down against her pillows, the rough sensation of Riley's teeth teasing across the skin that covered her hip bones causing her to moan softly.

There was a lot to take in and think about, of that much Lara was sure. But as Riley's head finally settled in between her legs, McCoy was intent to simply push it all away to worry about later, preferably when her head was less clouded with both lust and alcohol. For the moment she was happy enough to lose herself in the present, to forget about reality and simply  _feel._  After all, if her birthday was truly the only time when she could completely live without regrets then Lara decided that it was high time that she took full advantage of that fact.

For once the future and all the concerns it would bring could wait…

 


	18. Behind Blue Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

_No matter how many times you killed, maimed and tortured, blood would always be the most distinctive smell in existence. You could grow used to scrubbing it from beneath your nails, from the shallow creases of your skin, hell even the sight of it oozing both thick and thin at the same time was something you could grow accustomed to. But that fresh, nauseating, metallic tang that assaulted your nostrils? There was no getting used to that._

_As he sprints through the front door of his mother's townhouse, the door ajar and the rooms steeped in darkness, it's the most terrifying smell of his life._

_There are so many bodies that he doesn't know where to run first, for a moment his body hangs limply, swaying in confusion and disorientation. In the end he staggers towards his mother, collapsing down to kneel beside her body, now lifeless in the old leather arm chair that she'd once joked about handing down to him. In the shimmer of the Christmas tree lights the leather is slick with blood, viscous trails glistening across the brown fabric. He's reaching to find a pulse before he knows what he's doing despite the prominent bullet hole that's dead centre through her forehead. A deep, primal howl escapes his mouth when the skin is cool to the touch._

_Crawling across the blood steeped carpet, he reaches his brother, red stained hands rolling his body over in his arms, resting his head against his knees. His fingers grip deep into his shirt but the dead weight remains unresponsive, the blonde hair on the crown of his head matted with blood. Barely inches away lies his wife, her eyes half open and blank, mouth agape against the carpet. Her arms are outstretched towards her dead husband, her body illuminated by the twinkling festive lights above._

_He doesn't know how long he's been kneeling there cradling his brother's body in his arms, but when he comes to his senses long enough to realise that there are only three bodies, he's running upstairs as fast as his battered legs can carry him._

_His footsteps are loud, like a heartbeat, slamming against wooden floorboards with resounding force. They creak as he nears the door, the wood held barely ajar, cracks of light from the street lights permeating the gloom. He needs this, to salvage something, anything to lessen this senseless waste of life. He kicks the door open, winces from the pain, but he isn't deterred as his eyes search the child's room for any sign of life._

_When he first spots them, a pair of white socked feet poking out from beneath a duvet, his legs falter and he staggers, his hands reaching out and streaking red against the powder blue walls. The duvet has been pulled down off the bed, lying over the small body almost like a shield._

" _Joseph?" It's more like a pained sob but regardless his question receives no answer. He steps forward, his foot crushing against the jet plane toy that he'd bought him the Christmas before, streaks of blood splayed across the floor surrounding it. He kicks it aside with disgust, kneels before the duvet and shakes it violently, ever hopeful, his voice repeating his nephew's name like a mantra now. There's no reply and his heart thunders in his chest, his throat struggles to swallow. Before he even knows what he's doing he reaches forward for the duvet, grasping it firmly in both hands. He knows that what he will see will forever be burned into his memory. But he_ _ **has**_ _to see it, maybe even_ _ **deserves**_ _to._

_As he pulls back the sheets he is at a loss but to simply scream again._

_He falters once more, falls backwards, his legs suddenly without the strength to hold his weight. Flipping over, nausea is suddenly all there is and he doubles up, his stomach feeling as though it's risen to the back of his throat. His shoulders and back heave long after he has finished vomiting, invisible shards of glass sticking into the soft pouch of his throat. He rights himself, wipes his chin on the back of his hand. It's deadly quiet until he opens his mouth again, the next sound to leave his lips a prolonged one, muffled at first and then increasing in volume, its quality caught between a laugh and sob. It's the worst sound he can ever remember hearing._

_In his own room now, his hands are on auto pilot, that same noise growing in intensity as it leaves his mouth, his body shaking and trembling along with it. He grabs his pistol from the drawer, tests its weight in his hands, glances to his surroundings one last time. The noise is still there, although it's removed now, almost like he's not the one making it. He slides down the wall, pushes the gun firmly past his lips. The noise stops. His finger hovers on the trigger._

" _Simon."_

_The voice is alien and it shakes him, causes the gun to fall from his mouth. He freezes, his body tense as though it's devoting everything to simply listening._

" _Simon!"_

_The voice again, louder, but definitely there, definitely alive. A woman. His mother? He listens hard, the voice calling his name again, the tone frantic and concerned. He stands up, moves after the voice. It's familiar, painfully so, but he isn't able to place it, frustration and anger brimming in his system. Suddenly identifying it is all that's left and he's running, his feet flying down the stairs._

_In an instant, the world is suddenly very different. It's still dark around him, his skin is still drenched in sweat but the bodies are gone. He's in the rec room now but its dark, cold, imposing. He takes a step further into the room and suddenly there's someone there, Lara, her body stock still, arms hanging limply at her sides. When he tries to move towards her for some kind of comfort she backs away abruptly, her face terrified._

" _No." She shakes her head. "You let them down. You're going to let me down." She gives him a solemn, knowing nod. Suddenly something is materialising on her skin, a large red dot growing on her forehead. A trickle of blood escapes and she swipes at it with her fingers, holding out her hand and showing him the red that now stains them. "_ _ **This**_ _. This is all your fault."_

"NO!"

When Riley's eyes finally jolted open he was almost ashamed that the second word that had escaped his mouth had been her name.

"Simon?" For a moment he was just staring blankly upwards, at first not even aware of her face hanging above his. The bed sheets were stuck to his wet torso, twisting against his skin as he attempted to move. Cold air settled on his damp forehead, his lips begged for moisture and yet Riley continued to lay still, his heart racing as he attempted to find some kind of orientation. It came in the realisation that there was a hand resting against his forehead and instantly he shrugged it off, sitting upright with his back partially turned to Lara. Suddenly it felt impossible to even meet her gaze.

She didn't press him further, instead choosing to climb over his body and out of bed, reaching for a long baggy nightshirt that hung over the back of a chair and tugging it on. There was a sink over in the far corner of the room and Lara strode over to it quickly, filling a pint glass with water and returning to his side. She held it out to him without a word, remaining in front of him until he finally took it from her hands.

"This was a mistake." Riley spoke into the glass more than to her. "I should never have stayed."

"You didn't know that was going to happen."

"Didn't I?" The lieutenant let out a dark laugh.

"You mean this is… _regular_?"

"Is this how it goes now?" Ghost shook his head, still staring intently into the bottom of the pint glass. "I say 'yes' and you suddenly start prescribing me more of those fucking pills?  _No chance_."

"Credit me with  _some_  loyalty, Simon." She let out a long sigh; a jolt of the mattress telling him that she had sat back down beside him. "And for the record I don't think this is something to be treated with pills. Nor was it  _ever_."

"I don't need any  _treatment_."

"You need  _something._ " A hand was reaching out for his face again and he flinched away, standing decisively. The glass firmly planted on the floor he began hunting around for his jeans, attempting to ignore the firm determination that lingered on in Lara's voice when she spoke out again. "You were in a real state then, Riley."

"I can handle it." He pulled up his jeans, fastening the belt loosely around his hips.

"It's not weak to admit that you have a problem…"

"Isn't it?" Ghost laughed quickly, pulling his t shirt over his head. "So what do you want? Me to throw myself down on my knees and voice my fucking daemons, is that it?" He gave her an exasperated look. "Sorry, love. But that's not  _me_."

" _Simon_ …"

"Look just…" His tone had been harsher than he expected and Riley found himself toning it down, forcing himself to make it softer despite his desperate urge just to yell at her. "…  _Leave it._  Ok?" He gave her a weak smile through the gloom, a transparent gesture to somehow show her that he was fine. "It's late… there's training in a couple of hours. Let's just forget it, alright?" He turned his back, heading decisively for the door. "I'll talk to you later."

For a split second it seemed as though she was actually going to let him leave. But in reality, Riley should have known better. This was McCoy. If anyone could be described as being a master of not knowing when to keep their mouth shut, it would be her.

"Who's Joseph?" The name and the question hung heavy in the air and Riley froze, instantly regretting such a noticeable display of recognition of the name. He hovered, his back still turned, praying that she'd drop it if he stayed silent.  _She didn't. "…_  You kept saying his name."

"I was dreaming." Riley worried his lip. "I was just spouting a load of random bollocks."

" _No._ " He hated it when she put on that determined, knowing tone. "That much was quite clear. You were practically _yelling_  his name, Simon." A rustle from behind him told Riley that Lara had stood up. "Just tell me who he is."

"It's nothing."

"If it's nothing then there's no reason why you can't tell me, is there?" He heard her take a few steps forwards, bare feet tapping against laminate flooring. "But of course he means more than that. You wouldn't still be here if he didn't." Lara hesitated, obviously giving him a few moments to reply. "So who is he? Your brother?"

"My brother's name was Tom." Riley replied softly, the name feeling like barbed wire on his tongue. He shook his head, willing the bitter taste it left away. "Joseph was my nephew."

"…  _Was?_ "

"Was." He swallowed, his voice becoming harder, more resolute. "They're both dead."

"Simon, I'm-"

"You're what? Sorry?" He laughed, turning around slowly. "You're not the bastard who shot them so you've got no reason to be."

"Shot them? I-I don't understand."

"You wouldn't." Riley's features cracked into a dark smile. "And I prefer it that way."

" _Again_  with the secrets?" Lara shook her head, her hands launching upwards into the air. "It's funny really, isn't it? A couple of hours ago you were saying all that bullshit about how you've let me in, but in reality you've not changed in the slightest. I'm just at arm's length like everyone else!"

"You don't understand. This part of who I am has  _nothing_  to do with you…"

"You can't  _choose_ , Riley!" Lara scoffed. "You're not some fucking book that I can pick chapters out of. I either get to know all of you or none of you. There's no sodding middle ground."

"But telling you this won't change anything, Lara…"

"Maybe it won't." The medic shrugged, sitting back down on her bed stubbornly. "But the way I see it, I deserve an explanation." She paused, giving him a long, hard look. "When the guy next to you wakes you up kicking and screaming it's natural to be concerned. So don't fucking punish me for it, ok?"

If it was possible for realisation to physically click in his skull, then Riley was sure that this was it, a feeling of something that deeply resembled guilt beginning to bubble in the pit of his stomach. It had felt like an age since someone had actively admitted to being concerned about him and the words struck him harder than he was willing to show. His legs still desperate to propel himself out of Lara's room as quickly as possible, Riley fought the feeling with everything he had, forcing himself back over to the bed. Seemingly exhausted he slumped back down onto the mattress, seating himself a good distance away from Lara. He paused, psyching himself up for the inevitable, his elbows resting on his open knees whilst his head hung heavily off his shoulders.

"I never lied to you about what I was…" He said wearily, his voice low. He turned to his right, finally meeting her gaze head on. "I just didn't tell you what made me that way."

"So tell me now…" Lara quirked her characteristically curious eyebrow, her mouth straight and serious.

"You don't understand." Riley shook his head. "It's not just you… it's everyone. My past is done, finished… fucking buried." He let out a dark laugh. " _Literally_."

"If it was really finished you wouldn't be doing this…"

"Oh yeah?" The lieutenant scoffed. "Believe me, even if I lived another fifty years  _this_  would still be there. There are some things you don't forget… that you  _shouldn't_ forget. I don't give a fuck how many men you've killed or how hard a soldier you think you are.  _No one_  comes home to a murder scene and walks away from it  _whole_."

"… Then tell me what happened."

"They were shot." Riley shrugged blankly, his face suddenly devoid of any emotion, as though he was reciting the words from an autocue. "All of them. My mother, brother, his wife, even Joseph. He was just a kid..." The bitter taste returned to his mouth but Ghost swallowed it back, forcing the words past his lips as his right hand quickly swiped at his eyes. "It was all my fault."

"…  _How?_ "

"They killed them to get to me.  _Frame me_  even. Four people gunned down in an average townhouse and they'd have naturally come to me first." He let out a dark laugh. "You'd have seen it in the papers… Everyone loves hearing about an SAS bloke finally snapping and going psycho."

"… Riley… I… " Lara stuttered, her voice clearly shaken when she finally spoke. She looked at him intently, her eyes wide as she obviously tried to process the information. There was a moment's silence, as though she was unsure of what she should say next. "… Did they ever catch them? The people behind it?"

"No." Riley shook his head, although his lips cracked into a faint smile. "But I did."

"You killed them?"

"I was numb. I couldn't grieve, couldn't think, couldn't  _feel_. All that was left was what  _needed_ doing. What I  _had_  to do." He turned away from her, his eyes back to the floor. "So yeah, I killed them. I made them feel what I couldn't." His mouth slipped into a bitter grimace. "And that scares you shitless, doesn't it?"

"I've seen you kill before."

"Who?  _Antonov?_  It's different when you've been given orders. The responsibility sits with someone else just as much as it does with you." He shook his head. "But it doesn't matter. They deserved it and as far as I was concerned it wouldn't be long 'til I joined them."

"What you said… about sucking on your pistol…" Lara began warily, her face suddenly stricken with realisation. "That was  _true?_ "

"Why would I lie? I'd accepted it. I knew then that everything that made Simon Riley was already dead, that all I had to do was put a bullet through the body that was left behind." He laughed bitterly. "But that would have been  _too_ easy. A coward's way out maybe."

"So you came here?"

"So I came here. I'd done joint operations with the Yanks before so I figure Shepherd already knew about me." He shrugged, tired hands running through his hair, his face a weird concoction of dark amusement. "It didn't take much thought. He didn't seem to give a shit about the fact that every other fucker, including my old regiment was sidestepping me like some bloody plague victim."

"They had to know that it wasn't you…"

"Maybe they did, but when you're accused of murder it's amazing who's suddenly scared to meet your eye."

"Is that why you refuse to talk about this? Now, I mean?"

"No." Sighing, Riley stretched upwards, straightening out his back and shoulders. He turned to Lara, every ounce of emotion suddenly packed up back into his eyes where it could be more expertly hidden. "None of this counts for shit anymore. Mistakes were made, people died and yet  _I_  walked out of it. A fucking  _ghost._ "

"But a ghost that cares." Lara shook her head. "You can't keep pretending that you're dead inside."

"Why? Because of what I said last night?" Riley rolled his eyes. "It doesn't change anything."

"I think you're wrong."

"Do you now? And what makes you think you know me so damn well, eh?"

"It's not about knowing you… it's about common sense." Lara edged closer to him, her hand sitting on the mattress barely inches from his leg. "If you were so dead inside then you wouldn't be plagued by this… you wouldn't  _care._  Like you said, you don't come out of something like this whole. But that doesn't mean that you can't be again."

"Who said I wanted to be fixed, though? Is that what I am to you? Just some head fucked charity case who needs saving?"

"Of course it bloody isn't!" Lara shook her head, pulling her hand away from him as if she'd been scalded. "You misunderstood…"

"No… you did." Riley shook his head grimly. "The tragedy in all of this isn't that they are there every time I fucking close my eyes, but that I didn't save them.  _Couldn't_  save them. They died because of me, because of  _my_  mistakes." He sighed heavily, his brow furrowed in long lost frustration. "I get that you want to help me…. But you can't fix that and neither can I."

"So that's it then?" Lara shrugged, her face hardened in the dim light. "For all intents and purposes you're still sucking on that pistol?"

"No…" Ghost stood up, although he didn't move away and further. When he turned round a small, saddened smile was etched across his features. "I'm still going to get that bullet, but it'll be someone else taking the shot this time, not me. And when it happens I just hope it's fucking  _quick._ " He laughed bitterly at Lara's shocked expression. "Remember where you are, love. This is the 141. No matter what anyone ever tells you we're  _all_ expendable."

"Riley-"

"Can we not?" The lieutenant grimaced. "I'm not big on talking, Bones, you know that. I don't know what else you want from me, here."

"I want to know that you're ok."

"I'm always ok." He tried for another forced smile. "I've had this a long time, Bones."

"So you're just going to act as though you never told me?"

"What else is there?" He shrugged, his arms limp at his sides. "I know who I am. And talking about this… it isn't going to help."

"You don't know that."

"Believe me, I fucking do." He rolled his eyes, an frustrated sigh shuddering past his lips. "Just get some sleep,  _alright?_  You'll thank me for it in the morning."

"And what about you?"

"Like I said, I can handle myself." Riley shrugged, avoiding the piercing gaze that suddenly seemed to be burning through him, Lara's eyes far from convinced by his words. He knew that he should leave and yet he hesitated, wavered on the spot in front of her, his mind suddenly and indecisive mess. For the most part it had felt like the worst conversation of his life, bitter memories like rats now twisting around unwanted at the pit of his stomach. But somewhere, amongst all of that other shit, Lara had actually listened, hadn't judged him in the way he expected her to. That alone made him feel as though he owed her something in return.

It was an odd, almost tender gesture when he awkwardly bent his head, leaning down and aiming a kiss to her forehead. He hadn't expected her to see it coming and his body jolted as she looked up, their lips suddenly meet in a stiff kiss. For a split second Riley allowed himself to feel her lips move against his, soft and tentative. A hand wound its way up to his face and Ghost's pulled away, albeit slower this time, his face hovering above hers. Suddenly everything felt too intense, too meaningful and he found himself breathing out under hushed tones. "If you tell anyone about any of this, I'll fucking kill you."

She laughed out of politeness, but her dark, dilated eyes looked up at him with understanding, the medic nodding and settling herself back onto her bed properly. As Riley left without a further word he could feel her eyes burning into him as she watched him leave, but he decided against meeting them again, striding from the room as quickly as possible.

He didn't do heart to hearts. He was stronger than that. He didn't do grand displays of emotion or affection. He was colder than that. But that didn't mean that as he walked back to the barracks, Riley felt nothing. Telling Lara, telling  _someone_  about his past had been a release, one that had been a long time coming. He was never going to forget, didn't want to even, but that didn't mean that there wasn't any comfort in sharing, however small it might have been.

* * *

"Alright…. Where the  _fuck_  is my beer?"

When all that answered Royce was a loud cacophony of laughs and jeers from the rest of the rec room, he seemed to give up, choosing to rant to himself rather than pursue the matter further.

Ordinarily Lara would have laughed, but that morning she was in far too foul a mood for that. Her body was reprimanding her for the morning's tortuous training with a variety of aches and pains in almost every muscle whilst a dull throb at the back of her head was a constant reminder of the vodka she should never have drunk the night before. Riley's past was also constantly in her thoughts, over shadowing everything in her mind. The Riley she had seen that night had been so different, so defeated, so  _human_  that it had shaken her, thrown her completely, a feeling that had stayed with her long after she'd woken up a second time. In the end, she'd come to the rec room to try and distract her from going over their conversation over and over in her head, but so far her plan had been unsuccessful, her ears only half hearing the idle conversations around her as she continued to be lost to her thoughts.

"You are so screwed, man." Toad winked as Roach slipped past him. "Royce'll fucking slaughter you if he finds out."

"Then let's not tell him,  _right,_  Chris?" The sergeant rolled his eyes, turning his attentions to Ozone who was sat in front of them on one of the rec room sofas. The Canadian was certainly looking rough, his face firmly planted in his hands. Gently, Roach tapped him on the shoulder, holding out the glass of water he held in one hand. "Here, bro… You look as if you need this more than me."

"Yeah… I've not seen anyone go that colour since Greg's birthday." Toad laughed quickly, nudging the empty plastic basin at Ozone's feet a little closer with the toe of his boot. "If you're gonna hurl, try to aim here and not at my shoes."

"Fuck you, Chris…" Ozone grimaced, swallowing hard. He took a small sip of water, shuddering as the cool liquid found the back of his throat. "Someone just put a bullet in me… I'm begging you..."

"What a fucking waste of  _my_  vodka." An angry grunt came from the next sofa along where Archer was sprawled out, his boots crossed over at the ankle and propped up on the furniture's arm. He was reading some battered, well thumbed book, his eyes barely leaving the page as he spoke.

"I told you I'll buy you more." Toad replied indignantly.

"Oh yeah… I forgot." The older sniper rolled his eyes, laying the book open on his chest and giving his partner a sarcastic look. "Hey, here's an idea. Next time, buy your  _own_ pissing booze."

"Quit being such an  _old man_ , Archer."

"Stop it both of you!" Ozone moaned, his interruption causing Archer to return silently to his book. He looked up, glaring at Toad. "I already feel as if I have one of your raves raging in my head… last thing I need is your bitching too."

"Whoa… Tough crowd." Toad smirked, rolling his shoulders. He nodded down to the floor beside Ozone were Lara was sat hunched, her hands wrapped around her legs and her knees drawn up beneath her chin. "Come on, Bones. You have to have some kind of miracle cure for the hung over hidden away somewhere, right?"

"Sorry, what?" She'd still only been half listening and so it took Lara a while to register that Toad was speaking directly to her.

"Jesus…" Chris rolled his eyes, leaning on the edge of the sofa by Archer's feet. "What's the point in all that medical expertise if you don't  _listen?_ "

"You don't need to be a doctor to know what Ozone needs, mate." Archer replied casually, his eyes still fixed on the pages of his book. "It's common sense if you ask me. Just get him some water, sleep and better choice in  _friends_."

"Har fucking har." Chris rolled his eyes, his arms folded across his chest. "Anyway, it was Bones' birthday… why the hell am I getting all the blame here?"

"Because we all know  _you_ , Chris." Roach grinned. "If you're not causing trouble then you're unconscious."

The group settled back into a steady rumble of light hearted jeers and laughter, leaving Lara to zone out again. She looked upwards, her eyes fixed on the kitchen area of the rec room where Ghost, Royce and Rook were leant against the kitchen counter, seemingly laughing and joking like they didn't have a care in the world. Bones bit her lip. Riley's mask of arrogance and bravado had them all so completely and utterly fooled that barely anyone even questioned it anymore. And yet here she was, a relative newcomer who suddenly knew something that no one else did. Although Lara would never regret Ghost telling her, there was no denying that the thought was an extremely isolating one.

"The FNG's arrived." Scarecrow announced bluntly, approaching the group with a steaming bowl of noodles in hand and attracting one hell of a lot of attention in the process. He threw himself down onto the other side of the sofa by Ozone, wafting the food below his nose and laughing when he grimaced and turned away.

" _Really?_ " Toad gave him a curious look. "So where is he?"

"With Mactavish on the grand tour." Scarecrow rolled his eyes, shovelling a large forkful of noodles into his mouth. "He looks about five… I feel sorry who ends up partnering with him that's for sure."

"That's hardly fair, is it?" Lara snapped. "We know nothing about him and you're already making judgements?"

"What's there to know?" Archer interrupted, giving her a dismissive look over the top of his book. "Seriously, he's what?  _Twenty two?_  Kid's practically just been cut from his mother's apron strings and he's already over here playing with the big boys. It's fucking ridiculous."

"Careful, Archer… you're beginning to sound  _old._ " Chris quipped.

"Fuck you." The older sniper grunted. "But my point still stands. What's Shepherd going to start sending us next?  _Teenagers?_ "

"He has a point." Scarecrow added, although his words were muffled by the fact that his mouth was still half full.

"You're disgusting, bro…" Ozone grimaced, one hand holding his stomach.

"I just don't see why you guys seem intent on making each other's lives a fucking misery." Bones sighed. "So he's the new guy.  _Big deal_."

"Tradition, isn't it?" Toad shrugged. "We've all been there, Bones. Besides, a bit of tough love is good for the soul."

"Plus it's all innocent…  _mostly_  anyway." Scarecrow smirked. "It's hardly worth stressing over either way. This Jacob guy'll fit in just fine eventually…"

" _Jacob?"_  Roach laughed quickly. "Who the fuck is Jacob? His name's Joseph you dick."

"See what I mean?" Lara stood up slowly, grimacing as her head spun from the action. "Just a thought, but it might help if you can actually  _remember_  his name for a start, mate."

"Whoa… careful how you bite my head off there, Bones." Scarecrow laughed. "I'll be needing it later."

" _Piss off_."

"And where do you think you're going?" The younger sniper raised an eyebrow, watching Lara curiously as she sidestepped around him.

"To go break some more conventions." She flashed them a sickly smile. "I'm going to go introduce myself."

"You'll meet him later."

"So?" She gave them all one final, disapproving look. "Someone in this task force needs to show some compassion and it might as well be me."

For someone who had worked with a lot of men for most of her life, Lara could have anticipated the eruption of sarcastic ' _Ooooohs_ ' as she strode out of the room, and so she chose not to dignify them with a response. After all, the 141 might have taken her away from her biological family, but it had given her around ten new brothers its place. Even if there were times where she could quite happily imagine strangling every last one of them…

* * *

She'd only intended to make it a quick meet and greet before being able to retreat back to the relative safety and quiet of her office. But somewhere in between her smiling politely and Mactavish telling her that he had an urgent meeting with Shepherd, Lara had managed to get herself landed with the FNG himself. Although she had no problems with showing Allen a certain amount kindness, even Lara herself was loathed to spend the rest of her afternoon finishing the babysitting that Mactavish so obviously didn't want to do.

And yet with a soft nod, she was stepping to one side and showing Allen into her office dutifully.

He struck her as a strange one, Joseph Allen. In a lot of ways he didn't really look like a soldier, his tall, slim frame obviously still well built, but not quite as bulky as the rest of the men. The roughly chopped brown hair on the top of his head was in a less regimented style than the majority of the others, his face clean shaven aside from a light shadowing of stubble around his jaw line and upper lip. However, despite his almost fresh faced looks, Allen carried himself with great self assurance. He seemed to possess a cool, calculated confidence, remaining silent for the most part and yet clearly taking full account of his surroundings all the while with a pair of piercing blue eyes. Instantly Lara had him pegged as a career soldier, a man who had aspirations far more about using the 141 as a stepping stone to greater things than actually wanting to belong to the task force.

"They told me someone called Bones was the medic." Allen stated matter-of-factly, seating himself down in the chair opposite her desk.

"They told you right. Bones is my call sign." She inwardly rolled her eyes, sitting down in front of him and finding out his file on her desk. "It's effectively my name around here."

"And what do I call you?"

"You can call me what you like." She laughed weakly. "I doubt you could come up with something I've not heard before."

"It's odd." Allen shrugged, linking his hands together in his lap. He surveyed her for a moment, his eyes reading hers. "When they shipped me out here I didn't realise they let women into the 141."

"Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all. It's just…  _unexpected_." He paused. "So you actually come on operations, I take it?"

"Who, me? Nah, I'm just more here for decoration." Lara said dryly, smirking at his blatantly confused reaction. "Yes… I go out on operations. Fire a gun and everything."

"I didn't mean it like that…"

"Yeah, I get that too." Lara felt herself softening slightly. No matter how tactless Allen may have been she soon reprimanded herself for taking her bad mood out on him. "You'll soon discover that I have a pretty thick skin too."

"You get that a lot then?"

"You have no idea." Sighing, Lara's eyes flickered back to down to her notes, her eyes aching in their sockets from the sudden movement. She skim read Allen's records quickly, flicking through the pages with her thumb and forefinger. "So, you're American, right?"

"Just on the one side." Joseph nodded. "My mother's Russian." He must have noticed Lara quirk her eyebrow at the fact, his lips spreading into a thin, amused smile. "She emigrated before all of the tensions obviously."

" _Obviously._ " Lara's eyes moved back down to the page. "So you're from Ithaca?"

"Is this some kind of check that my records are in order? Because if is, just hand me the file and I'll check it over myself." Allen replied quickly, his voice filled with an authority that he didn't really possess.

"What? And miss out on all this small talk?" Lara laughed sarcastically, sliding the file over towards him with her right hand, the other reaching upwards and pinching at the bridge of her nose. "Be my guest."

It was soon becoming clear that although Joseph Allen might have been a small fish in a big pond, he certainly wasn't intending on showing it. Lara allowed herself a small, self satisfied smile. She'd come to the 141 with a similar chip on her shoulder, there for different reasons perhaps, but a similarity all the same.

Besides, right now she really was grasping at any common ground she could find.

"Did you have any other questions?"

"Just one." Allen looked up quickly from his file, dropping it down casually onto the desk. "When do I meet the rest of the team?"

"Whenever you like." She shrugged. "They're all around the base somewhere. Your best bet is the rec room tonight if you want to meet them all together."

"I don't get a proper introduction?"

"The 141 don't really stand on ceremony." Lara laughed softly, leaning back in her chair. "Take it as a word of advice from someone's who's still pretty new here herself."

"And how long have you been here?"

"A good few months… but I'm still adjusting, that's for sure." She smirked. "I'll give you the same advice someone gave me. Keep your head down and avoid Ghost at all costs."

"Ghost?"

"Your XO." Lara swallowed hard, images of the first distasteful look Riley had ever given her flashing through her mind's eye. "If you haven't met him yet then you'll know him as Lieutenant Riley."

"And you think he's going to have a problem with me?"

"I  _know_ he is _._  Riley would be the first to admit that he's not a trusting person." Suddenly the words had an all new relevance in her mind. "But like I said, stay out of his way and you shouldn't have a problem."

"It makes no difference to me." Allen shook his head, his voice nonchalant. "I'm not here to make friends."

"You had friends in your old squad, right?" Lara raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think that the 141 is any different? Trust me; you're going to need them."

"I mean no disrespect, but I don't need you to tell me what I will and won't need."

"Hey… don't get me wrong." Lara shrugged. "I'm only giving you a heads up before you become the task force bitch. You can take it or leave it, it makes no difference to me."

"And I appreciate that, but I don't need you to try and pass the torch on to me." Joseph stood in a single fluid motion, his features remaining as calm and collected as they had always been. There'd never been any malicious edge to either his manner or his tone and yet Lara could already feel her patience wearing very thin indeed. "I'd rather do things my way if its all the same to you."

"Whatever works for you." Lara nodded courteously, indicating over to her office door. "But I'd at least show your face in the rec room tonight."

"I intend to. Will I see you there?"

"You might." Lara smiled, maintaining the action as she watched him head on over to the door. "But in the mean time, good luck." She waited until he had actually gone through it before adding under her breath. "You're going to need it."

As she busied herself with filing away his records, Lara was certainly sure of one thing. She didn't envy Joseph Allen in the slightest. He was a man who obviously took himself seriously; something that she was fairly certain would do him no favours with the other men. That and the fact that he wasn't going to have the opportunity to prove himself on an operation in the foreseeable future either. To be fair, she couldn't see what was so special about him herself, but then again, Lara McCoy wasn't Shepherd. To her, he was just an average, yet driven soldier. But to Shepherd? Well, the general obviously had big things planned for his new FNG. As did Allen himself…

 


	19. Love The Way You Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

"You fuckin' pussy!" The loud, taunting voice could only really belong to Meat, the linguist slapping Royce on the back as he leant down to put his dumb bells back onto their rack. He smirked, edging around the older man and picking up a pair of weights that were at least 6 kilograms heavier, although his face instantly showed the strain. "Lemme show you how it's done,  _old man_ …"

Lara rolled her eyes. If she ever needed anything to remind her that training in the gym alone was the best policy, then it was Meat's constant competitive remarks.

Ordinarily it was rare for so many of them to be training in the gym at once, but as the weather outside began to get warmer and more uncomfortable, more of the men chose to train in the relative comfort of a heavily air conditioned room rather than run laps around the base. The only downside of course was that a load of competitive, physical men in a confined space generally didn't end well.

"C'mon Bones, just one more rep…" Roach's voice above her suddenly snapped Lara out of her thoughts and she let out an angered hiss, her arms shaking under the weight she was attempting to bench press. The last repetition always felt like it was set to last an age and she gritted her teeth, using the remnants of her strength to extend her arms upwards. For a moment her grip wavered and Roach instinctively moved in to catch the bar, but she regained control of it, dropping it backwards onto it's stand as quickly as she could manage.

" _Shit…_ " Her breath catching in her throat, Lara weaved her way up from under the bar and sat up, gratefully taking the water bottle that Gary handed to her. No matter how many friends she had on the base, Roach was always going to be one of the few that she trusted enough to spot for her during resistance training. She looked up at him from her seat on the bench, her mouth spread in a pained smile. "That one fucking  _hurt_ …"

"Oh man up…" Gary laughed softly, nudging her shoulder. "You're playing with the big boys now, remember? Need to start lifting weights like them too."

"Oh yeah?" Lara rolled her eyes, pausing to swallow a long glug of cooling water. "And what if I don't want arms like yours?"

"Then you better cut down on your protein. Or maybe just give up on it altogether. It's not like you have many feminine charms left to lose, is it?"

" _Fuck you_." Lara laughed, jabbing at him with her elbow as she stood up. She moved to the side, occupying herself with wiping her body down with her towel whilst he upped the weights on the bar and sat down on the bench. As Roach lay down, Lara's gaze flickered across the room, resting on the treadmills where Allen was practically sprinting directly opposite them. "The new boy's hitting it hard today…"

"Maybe he feels like he has something to prove…" Roach grunted, his words stunted by the short, hiss like breaths he took in between repetitions. "He's no idiot."

"How do you mean?"

"What I mean…" Gary paused, dropping the weight down onto the rack behind him before continuing, his chest moving up and down rapidly from the exertion. "Is that he knows that no one is going to take him seriously until he's been out on at least one operation."

"Because that's so fair."

"Don't start with all that again." Roach shook his head, sitting up and giving her a disapproving look. "As far as we're all concerned, getting into the task force is easy. It's  _staying_  here that's the hard part. You should be thinking like that too by now."

"Or maybe that's something I'm always going to struggle with."

"Stubborn much, Bones?"

"Have we met?" Lara laughed, shaking her head. "If I wasn't making life difficult for myself then I wouldn't know what to do."

"Seems to be a trait shared by you and Allen…" Roach glanced over to the treadmill where the FNG had slowed down to a slow jog. "He's an odd one, don't you think?"

"Why?"

"The tattoo for a start. I mean, what is with that?" Gary gave her an amused, puzzled look.

"It's an eagle." Lara rolled her shoulders, her tone bored. "What's the big deal?"

"He has more. I saw him in the showers a few days ago. There's like this…  _cathedral_  thing on his chest. Dead centre."

"Cathedral?" Lara raised an eyebrow. "Ok, so maybe he's just religious then."

"Maybe." Roach didn't look convinced. "Looked more like prison ink if you ask me."

"Prison ink? So basically the  _least_  likely thing that it could be?"

"Well… yeah." The sergeant shrugged.

"You guys bitchin' about the FNG by any chance?" The arrogant swagger of the man that approached them naturally belonged to Toad, the sniper grinning, a pale blue towel wrapped around his neck.

"What made you think that?" Lara cocked an eyebrow.

"You're hardly discreet." Chris rolled his eyes. "Plus there's fuck all else to talk about around here right now."

"A fair point." Roach nodded.

"Although…" Glancing over his shoulder, Toad's voice wavered as he watched Allen leave the treadmills and stride confidently over to the water cooler, a spot that just so happened to be occupied by Ghost and Archer. He laughed, turning back to face Lara and Roach, a wide smirk spread across his features. "Someone get the popcorn. Looks like things about to get interesting again…"

"Mind if I get in there?" It wasn't an overly cocky statement as Allen edged his way around to stand in front of Riley, but it did possess his usual, self assured manner.

"You can do what you fucking like." The lieutenant practically spat, not bothering to move any further out of his way. He stayed quiet, his face practically fixed on the FNG in front of him as he moved to refill his water bottle. Even from across the room, Lara saw him look up and smirk in Archer's direction beside him, before clearing his throat in the typical, authoritative way that never ceased in annoying her completely. "You've been hitting training pretty hard then?"

"Hard?" Allen straightened up, making no attempt to avoid the lieutenant's piercing gaze. "No, sir. I always train like this."

"Suppose you have to keep yourself occupied somehow, eh?" Riley scoffed, meeting Archer's eye again. "It's gotta be rough being here just for decoration."

"I don't follow…"

"Sure you do." Riley folded his arms. "You've been with us what… three weeks now? Shepherd's been sending guys out on operations the whole time too… small stuff, hell, half of it stuff even a FNG like yourself could handle." There was a dark, threatening tone coupled to the amusement in his voice. "Yet you've still seen fuck all action ain't ya? Like I said, you're fucking decoration round 'ere."

"I'm here for a reason." Allen's voice remained calm, although anyone listening could tell that he was fighting not to lash out. "Like we all are."

"Oh yeah?" Ghost scoffed. "Go on then. What skills does a jumped up little kid like you have, eh?"

"Obviously as many as you, since we were both hand picked by the same man."

"Shepherd?" Riley rolled his eyes. "You can't hide behind the old man forever…  _mate._ "

"Funny." Allen gave Riley a small, measured smile, the anger lost from his features in seconds. "I would have thought that a lieutenant would have learnt to speak about his commanding officer with more respect by now."

"Excuse me?" If the rest of the gym weren't watching already, they certainly were as Riley's voice erupted out, his cocky grin lost instantly as he took a step forwards, squaring himself up to the slightly smaller man. "Are you really going to try telling me what to do now?"

"It was just an observation." Allen shrugged, his face all the more smug from Riley's anger. "I was always taught that you get respect by  _giving_  it."

"And I was always taught that little twats who know jack shit about anything should at least know their fucking  _place._  A lesson I think you could do with learning."

"Riley…" Archer interjected, but he made no point to move in between them.

"And I suppose you take it on yourself to teach us all that lesson, don't you,  _sir?_ " Allen smirked. "So go on. Hit me if you feel the need to reassert some of that authority of yours."

"You fucking twat…" Riley rolled his shoulders. "You really just don't get all this, do you?"

"On the contrary." Allen scoffed. "I think I understand this… or at least  _you_ , perfectly."

As Riley took a step closer, his right fist already balled, it really didn't take a genius to work out his next move.

"Riley!" Without Mactavish around, it seemed as though none of the men were thinking of stepping in as they all remained stood around the room, their eyes fixed on the events taking place. Lara however foresaw valuable time spent stitching Allen's smug face back together and she opened her mouth before she really thought, taking a step closer towards the pair. The action had the desired effect, albeit it transferring Ghost's anger towards her as he spun round to meet her eye. "That's enough."

"You're giving me orders now too, huh?"

"It wasn't an order." Lara shook her head.

"Course it wasn't." The lieutenant rolled his eyes. "Fuck this shit. And  _you_ …" He turned to Allen, giving him a quick shove to the chest that he clearly wasn't braced for, the FNG stumbling to regain his footing. "You watch your mouth next time, you hear me?" He gave him an angry sneer. "Maybe then you won't need some fucking  _woman_  to step in and fight your battles for you." He laughed again, before heading straight for the gym doors. Satisfied that the drama was over, the rest of the men seemed to go back to their training, Allen totally avoiding Lara's gaze as he strode off.

"You're insane…" Roach sighed, suddenly appearing at Lara's side. He nudged her elbow to get her attention, causing her to tear her eyes from the door that Ghost had barged through only seconds before. "Riley's on the warpath and you push him  _further?_ "

"He was acting like a cock."

"Yeah… but in fairness so was Allen." Toad rolled his eyes. "You saw that smile on his face. He was enjoying everything Riley threw at him."

"And so that means that I should have just left them to it?"

"Pretty much." The sniper nodded. "Bit like cabin fever. Allen will prove himself eventually and all will be right with the world again."

"And what about in the meantime?" Lara sighed. "We go back to the old 141 mentality that everything is solved by a punch to the face?"

"Hasn't failed us so far." Toad smirked. He laughed as Lara threw him a disapproving look. "Seriously, Bones. Lighten up will you? You're killin' me here."

"Then I'll get out of your hair." Lara shrugged, throwing her towel over her shoulder.

"Where are you going?" Roach raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"To do some damage control." She laughed weakly, heading for the door herself. "If I'm not around later, the chances are that Riley's killed me."

* * *

When she finally caught up to him, Ghost was just striding through into the barracks.

"Simon…  _Wait!_ " She'd had to sprint across the large expanse of tarmac that lay between the barracks and the gym building in order to keep up, an action that left Lara breathless as she tried to call after him. Riley simply ignored her and disappeared off into the rec room. As it was, Lara didn't particularly care about whether or not she was supposed to follow him as she moved to do the same.

The rec room was uncharacteristically empty as she lingered by the door, her back leaning against the frame. For a moment she didn't say anything, watching as Riley fumbled around in the fridge for something to drink, finally settling on a half empty carton of orange juice which he unceremoniously drank without the need for a glass. Eventually he turned around, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, his eyes automatically glaring at her when she attempted to speak.

"Riley…"

"What the fuck is it now, eh, Bones?" The lieutenant rolled his eyes angrily. "Or are you just back to sticking your nose where it doesn't pissing belong?"

"You can ditch the bravado, Simon. There's no one else here." Lara sighed, folding her arms.

"Oh that's it, pull all that 'you know me' shit if you want." He shook his head. "It's not going to make any fucking difference."

"Stop trying to make this about me."

"Bit late for that, don't you think?" He threw her a bitter smile. "You just don't know when to let shit lie, do you?"

"And you do?" She scoffed. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but  _you_ went after Allen there, not me. What the hell's got you so wound up?"

"You're kidding me, right?" Ghost laughed, leaning back against the counter. "As if you don't fucking  _know_."

"Allen? He's not worth all of this."

"Him I can handle. But  _you_?" Ghost rolled his eyes. "Where do you get off thinking that you can just fucking challenge me like that? In front of my own men?"

"It wasn't a rank issue…" Lara shook her head incredulously, pushing off from the wall.

"Could have fooled me."

"You were acting like a complete twat, Riley."

"Oh yeah?" He laughed. "And what about that little shit, eh? He was being a  _real_  fucking angel."

"I'm not defending him!"

"Then why the fuck are we even having this conversation?"

"Quit acting like you're stupid, Simon. He was  _mocking_  you. He  _wanted_  you to bloody hit him."

"So you should have let me." Riley waved his hand at her dismissively. "Why the  _fuck_  did you have to get involved?"

"Because my idea of a good time is not watching you make yourself look like a complete and utter arse, alright?"

"Then what did you call that? Every man in that room saw you undermine me, a _gain._ "

"So your pride's a little hurt." She shook her head. "Big fucking deal. Would you rather them just see you beat the shit out of someone again just because you don't know when to reign yourself in?"

"They've seen it before."

"That changes nothing. Everyone knows that your anger is your biggest weakness, Simon. Hell, even Allen knew it. You wanna give him the satisfaction of knowing that he got to you? Then be my fucking guest." She rolled her eyes, raising both her hands defensively. "Next time I'll just go back to not giving a shit, alright?"

She should have walked away, but she didn't, choosing to step further into the room and moving so that she was stood directly opposite him, her back leaning against one of the counters. She watched him carefully, slowly seeing the anger dissipate in his face, feeling the swell of irritation within her begin to disappear along with it. When he finally did meet her gaze again, his features were still strained, but it was nothing new compared to the irritated way he often looked at her.

"I'm not used to being challenged… ok?" He gave her an exasperated look, filling an awkward pause by taking another long drink from the juice carton. "But I can't have you having a go at me like that in front of the other guys."

"Because you're the big bad XO, right?" Lara rolled her eyes. " _Sure_."

"No." Riley shook his head, his face deadly serious. "Because it's  _you_. If Archer had stopped me then fine, no one would have batted a fucking eyelid. But you? After what they  _all_  know about us?" He laughed darkly. "You bitching at me like that just makes it look like you're my fucking wife or something."

"Oh  _please_ …" Lara scoffed. "That's beyond infantile."

"But it's true." The lieutenant shrugged. "You never used to challenge me, now you're more than happy to pull me up on anything you don't like. The guys aren't stupid, Lara. They'll start jumping to conclusions."

"Funny… aren't you the one who is always telling me not to give a shit about what they think?"

"I still have responsibilities." Riley shook his head. "Hell, I might not act like it half the time but I'm still their XO; they still have to take orders from me when all's said and done. And if they think that I'm giving you special treatment just because we're fucking-"

"Alright…  _alright_." Lara interjected, her face turning into a grimace. "I get it, ok?"

"I don't think you do." Ghost sighed, dumping the carton down on the counter top and taking a step towards her. He let out an awkward laugh. "Just goes to show that you and me are more alike than you think."

"You and me are poles apart." Lara was saying it to herself rather than to him.

"Really?" He quirked a knowing eyebrow. "You've just attacked me for speaking without using  _this_  first." He tapped at his left temple with two fingers. "But come on, Bones, think about it. You're the same."

"That's different."

"Is it?" He shook his head. "You're just as likely to as speak without thinking it through first."

"As if I am."

"You are." He rolled his eyes. "Knowing people is a two way street, McCoy. I think sometimes you forget that I know you just as well as you know me." He paused, giving her one last, lingering yet hard look. "I'm gonna run some laps… cool off a bit." He shrugged, his voice serious yet not unkind when he spoke again. "Just gimme a bit of space, ok?"

Lara decided against replying, choosing to nod weakly as her answer. She didn't watch him leave, instead moving forwards and taking the abandoned juice carton in her hand, gulping down the remaining liquid to drench the sudden dryness in her throat. Crushing the object in her hands, she let out a sigh that she didn't realise that she'd been holding. If there was one thing that she hated about her confrontations with Riley, it was how he always managed to surprise her.

* * *

At least Shepherd seemed to be rediscovering his faith in his task force.

With everything being so quiet, Mactavish had been nervous to say the least. He hated sitting around waiting for orders, his head filled with uncertainties and too much time to think. Operations, even at their most uneventful, at least offered him a distraction.

In recent weeks, there'd been a lot of gathering intel, some of it conducted by Mactavish's branch of the task force. Shepherd had seemed to be intent on cleaning house and investigating anything that vaguely resembled a lead on Makarov, with a fair number of suspect deals set up with several informants. For Soap and his team, they had had little luck, many of the leads proving to be dead ends or at the very most trails that had long since gone cold. He'd heard rumours that the other teams under Shepherd's command might have had more luck, but the general appeared to be holding all of his cards very close to his chest. Whether this was because Soap had not been fully forgiven for losing Baskov, or because Shepherd was just playing it safe, he didn't honestly know.

It was rare for a meeting with Shepherd to take place anywhere else but in his office and yet Soap found himself standing outside of the operations room door, his hands tucked dutifully behind his back. He moved to rap his knuckles against the wood, opening the door when he heard a voice call out to him in response.

"Ah… Mactavish." The general smiled courteously, nodding to the door in indication for him to close it behind him. Doing so, Soap took a couple of measured steps forward, standing at the other side of the operations table expectantly.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Indeed I did." Never one for idle small talk, Shepherd slid a newspaper clipping across the table, raising an eyebrow as he glanced to Mactavish. "I assume you've heard about the 'space junk' recently discovered in Russia?"

"Of course, sir." Mactavish eyed the article casually. "The Russians claim it was just a load of burnt out metal."

"A fabrication on both sides." The general shook his head. "This 'junk' was a downed American satellite. The American Government is choosing to deny it to avoid any bad press and the Russian Government won't draw attention to the fact that they have it." He shook his head slowly. "As always, the media believe what they're told."

"But what do the Russians want with an American satellite?"

"It's not the satellite that they're interested in." Shepherd slid another two files across the table top, one of them clearly showing the schematics for some kind of electrical device. "The satellite had an onboard ACS module. An attack characterisation system. The technology is solid, but if the Russians are given the time to tap into it…"

"Then they effectively have the key to every lock in America." Mactavish nodded slowly. "Do you honestly think they'd use it, sir?"

"We can't be sure. But it's one piece of information that the Americans are keen for no other nation to have." Shepherd gave him a deadly serious look. "America cannot be held hostage by this."

"So we recover the missing module, sooner rather than later. Preferably long before the Russians manage to crack it."

"Exactly. Recovering the ACS module is now of paramount importance to both you and the rest of this task force." He nodded quickly, gathering up the papers from the table. "Intel suggests that it's being held in a Russian airbase in the Tian Shan Mountains, but I need verification before I can send any of you in there."

"Then I'll put together a team in the mean time."

"Choose them carefully." Shepherd nodded slowly. "I only want a small patrol out on this, four men at the most. The fewer people who know, the better."

"Understood, sir." Soap gave him a forced smile. "We'll be ready as soon as you need us to move out."

"Good." Shepherd nodded; although his voice lacked the finality Soap had been expecting.

"Was there… something else, sir?"

"Yes." The general paused, leaning across the table with both hands laid flat against the wood. He gave the captain a stern look. "It's Allen. He's to be redeployed."

"General?" Mactavish was unable to stop the surprise in his voice. "But he's barely been with us three weeks."

"An assignment has come up, a joint operation with the CIA." He took a step backwards, folding his arms. "They want one of our guys and I intend to send them Allen."

"With respect, Allen is our least experienced man."

"I'm aware of that, Mactavish." Shepherd rolled his eyes. "But he possesses certain skills that make him perfect for this assignment. I'm confident that his training up until now will get him through what needs to be done."

"I see." In reality his head might have been filled with questions, but Mactavish knew better than to voice them. "Should I tell him?"

"I'll tell him myself. He's to leave with me for a briefing."

"And the rest of my men?" Soap raised an eyebrow. "They aren't going to like this. What do I tell them?"

"You tell them the truth, Mactavish." The general sighed, gathering the papers up from the table and placing them back into a folder. "Their personal opinions on this make little difference to me."

"Yes, sir."

"Believe me when I say that this operation is a huge opportunity for Allen to make a difference." Shepherd nodded quickly. "That's what he wants and I'm going to give it to him." He brushed past Mactavish, heading for the operations room door. "Have Allen meet me this evening, 1900 hours. We'll be flying out tonight." He gave him a quick nod. "And tell him to pack everything. As of now, he is no longer a 141 operative."

* * *

If she'd have been back home, it would have been one of those nights where Lara would have been content to just slink down in her bath and submerge both her head and thoughts within a pool of muffled white noise.

As it was, the best alternative the 141 base could provide was a warm shower, although even that was sporadic, with the water flowing cold every so often and frightening her half to death.

It was relatively early for her to be back in her quarters, but in reality Lara had been unable to stomach the rec room that night. The big news on the base was of Allen's sudden transfer and as a result it seemed to be the only thing that the men were able to talk about. At first Lara had been interested, listening intently to Toad who incidentally had been the last person to see or speak to Allen himself, but after an hour of the same theories and comments from the others she'd found herself a little bored. With Ghost nowhere to be seen she'd decided to simply head back to her quarters for an indulgent shower and early night. To be fair, she was looking forward to the alone time a little more than she liked to admit.

Leaning her head back under the water, Lara felt the by now lukewarm water run across her scalp and she lifted her hands, running her fingers through her hair. A sudden knocking sound caught her attention and she froze, ducking out from under the stream of water to listen again. There was another knock. With a reluctant sigh Lara switched off the shower.

Clumsily she wrung out her hair before wrapping a towel tightly around her body. Ordinarily she would put more effort into making herself more presentable, but if this was anything like what had happened a week ago then there was little point in her attempting to get dressed. After all, Riley had appeared out of nowhere outside her door, interrupting her shower and presenting her with a sly smile when he'd noticed her still wet hair. He hadn't said anything, merely pushed her back into the room and instantly decided upon kissing her and guiding her towards the bathroom at the same time. With Riley being the only one to really come to her room at night, she simply figured that he'd come back for a repeat performance.

"G-Gary?" She felt like an idiot as soon as she saw him, instinctively shielding herself behind the door slightly. She gave her friend a confused look, her eyes almost instantly slipping down to the two bottled beers he held by the neck in his left hand. "Um… I was just in the shower…"

"So I see." Roach laughed. He lifted his hand, showing her the alcohol even though she'd obviously noticed it already. "Mind if I come in? Rec room was driving me crazy."

"Er… sure…." Slowly, Lara used one hand to hold up her towel, whilst the other opened the door that little bit wider so that he could slip into her room. She paused, watching him head over automatically to her bedside table and place the bottles down. "Give me a second, will you? I should probably get dressed."

When she returned from her bathroom a few minutes later, her shorts and baggy t shirt already beginning to stick to her still damp skin, Roach had settled himself on his bed, one of the bottles of beer already resting in his lap. He smiled at her as she moved to sit beside him, opening her beer for her with the bottle opener that he used as a key ring and handing it to her.

"Cheers." Lara nodded, using her free hand to sweep a wet tendril of hair out of the way of her face. She moved backwards on the bed so that her back was resting against the wall, her feet dangling over the edge. "So… was the rec room still as bad as when I left it?"

"Pretty much." Roach shrugged. "I hung around 'til Toad and Archer disappeared. Then Meat was just driving me insane. You know how he and Royce love a good bitch."

"Hell yeah." Lara laughed, taking a sip of her beer. "Together they're a force to be reckoned with."

"Royce loves a good conspiracy theory. Keeps going on about how Allen was never meant to really be one of us from the start or some shit." Lara remained silent as she remembered the conversation that she'd had weeks ago with Mactavish, where he'd mentioned that Shepherd had given him specific orders not to assign Allen to any operations. "It's funny… they bitched about him while he was here, now they're bitching about him because he's gone."

"And you're surprised by this?" Lara smirked. "You've known them longer than me."

"True. I left them to it anyway. They'll happily talk in circles for hours."

"As long as they're happy I guess…" McCoy laughed, before taking a larger drink of beer. For a few moments they fell into a comfortable silence, both of them content to just drink and sit there, quietly. With anyone else it would have felt like an awkward pause, but after all the months that she'd known him; with Roach it just felt natural.

"So you survived then?" Roach said suddenly after a particularly long drink of beer.

"Sorry?"

"Riley didn't kill you." Gary rolled his eyes. "I was attempting to be funny there, Bones. Way to shoot me down."

"Sorry." She gave him a quick nudge. "Yeah, I survived."

"How did it go?" It was unusual for him to question anything that had happened between her and Riley, but Lara pushed the feeling aside.

"Ok I guess. He was pissed, but you saw that much."

"Oh yeah… Allen sure as hell knew how to get under his skin." Roach laughed. "Gotta hand it to him, he sure had some balls."

"I think it made him feel superior. Angering Riley like that." McCoy shrugged. "I guess it actually did in a way."

"As I'm sure you told Riley?"

"Yeah…" Lara sighed. "You know me. Never know when to keep my mouth shut."

"And we all love you for it... keeps things interesting for a start." Roach teased. "But you do realise that you're pretty much the only person Riley would take that from, right?"

"Funny…" Lara shrugged. "That's what was bothering him."

"What was?"

"Giving the impression that he was giving me preferential treatment." She rolled her eyes. "Which he really  _isn't_."

"He could have torn into you in the gym today, but he didn't." Roach shook his head. "To me it sounds as if he's scared."

"Of what?"

"Of  _you_." The sergeant laughed, although there was a more serious undertone to his voice. "But seriously... Sounds as though he's realising that  _yeah_ … he does have some fucking emotions locked up behind that thick skull of his."

"He does. And lots of them." Lara shrugged. "But I don't think any of them are actually  _about_ me."

"You're kidding me, right?" Roach rolled his eyes. "You've gotta have the thickest skull of us all." He tilted his head, catching her eye. "Riley cares about you. More than you realise obviously. Hell, maybe even more than even  _he_  realises."

"We're not like that." Lara shook her head quickly. "Sure he cares… but that's just because I've shown him that he can give a shit about someone without it having to be some kind of band of brothers,  _Semper Fi_ , kind of way." She rolled her eyes. "Not because he actually gives a damn about me… for well,  _me_."

"Shit, Bones." Roach sighed, taking the time out to drain his bottle of beer before continuing. "You're blind. He actually _listens_  to you… or at least more than he ever listens to any of us."

"And?"

"And… that's something pretty damn unheard of. Only guys like Mactavish and Archer get that kind of respect… and he's been working with them for  _years_. I'm just saying that you need to be careful… that's all."

"Careful?" Lara raised an eyebrow. "I don't understand…"

"Yes, you do." Roach paused, running his tongue across his teeth pensively. "Look… Stop me here if I start talking out of my ass or something, but… I  _know_  you, Bones. Or at least, I think I do. And if I'm honest… well…" He shrugged hopelessly. "I don't think that Riley is the one you really want."

"…What?" Lara's heart thudded in her rib cage. "I told you, we're not like that."

"I know, I know… you're all casual and whatever." Roach lifted his hands almost apologetically. "But honestly, Lara. I don't think you really wanna be Mrs Simon Riley, right?"

"You make it sound like I'm just fucking with him…" Lara said slowly, her voice beginning to get that little bit unsteady and annoyed.

"That's not how I mean it." Roach sighed, his face almost sheepish as he struggled for the right words. "All I'm saying is that I think what Riley means to you is a little different to what you mean to him."

"And why are you doing this, Gary?" Lara gave him a sceptical look. "A couple of months ago you were trying to get Riley to back off. Now you're sitting here and telling  _me_  not to fuck with him?"

"Riley's my friend." Roach shrugged. "His standoffish bullshit annoys the hell out of me but he's saved my ass more times than I can count. And I never said that you were fucking with him."

"You implied it."

"Will you quit being so defensive?"

" _Defensive?_ " Lara scoffed. "Did I ask for you to start tearing my private life apart?"

"No… And that's  _not_  what I'm doing. That's how you see it maybe, but it's not what I meant to do." He rolled his eyes. "If I thought you knew all this I'd have kept my fucking mouth shut and stayed out of it." He paused, giving her a weak smile. "Instead I'm sat here having this awkward as hell conversation and trying to stop you from destroying each other." He let out a heavy sigh. "Fuck it. I thought I could actually talk to you about this  _without_ you trying to bite my head off."

She was hurt, confused and everything in between as Lara watched Roach stand up from her bed, the sergeant quickly retrieving the two empty beer bottles and heading for her door. On the one hand, she was angry, frustrated that Gary had decided to take it upon himself to get involved in what should have been her personal life. And yet on the other hand, she sensed that he was right. There was a chance that things with Ghost ran deeper than she'd previously thought, a realisation that unsettled her to say the very least. After all, she cared for Simon, that much was clear, but for her to feel anymore than that? She honestly didn't know. And amidst such confusion here she was, snapping at a true friend who actually had the balls to tell her when she might be doing something drastically wrong.

"Gary…  _stop_." She slipped off the bed and to her feet quickly, taking a small step after him just as he reached her door. He stopped, but he didn't turn around fully, choosing instead to look over his shoulder at her expectantly. "I'm sorry, ok? You didn't deserve that. It was a knee jerk reaction… I just didn't  _think_."

"I know that." He sighed, turning round to fully face her. "But it's none of my business. Forget I said anything."

"I don't think I can." She shrugged hopelessly.

"Bones…"

"No… that's a good thing, right?" She bit her lip. "If what you've told me is true… well then I have a lot to think about." She paused, running a hand through her still wet hair. "Can't sit around with my head in the sand forever, right?"

"I could be wrong…"

"And then again you might not be." Lara sighed. "But that's for me to worry about, not you."

"Then why do I feel like I've stirred shit up?"

"Because shit probably needed stirring up in the first place." She laughed weakly when he gave her a worried look. "Don't worry, Gary. I'm not about to run off and say something drastic."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Think.  _A lot_." She smiled again softly. "Maybe even start taking responsibility for some of my actions whilst I'm at it." She forced an almost nervous laugh but it fell heavy on them both. "Hey, maybe when I stop being such a head fuck I might actually be able to work out just what the hell I'm doing here." She shrugged again, shoving her hands into the pockets of her shorts. "Either way, I'm gonna sleep on it."

"You're sure you're ok?" Roach didn't look all that convinced.

"I'm fine. Tired maybe. And confused, but what's new?" She nodded to him softly. "Don't worry about me, Gary."

"And are  _we_  ok?" He paused to moisten his lips with his tongue. "Like I said, I didn't mean to fuck you up here, Bones."

" _Please._ " Lara rolled her eyes. "I don't want a friend who sits there and agrees with everything I say and do. I need someone who isn't afraid to knock some sense into me every once in a while." She gave him her warmest smile. "I know for sure that that's always going to be you."

"I try." The grin that she was far more used to seeing on his face was back and Roach allowed himself a small laugh. "I'll remember to criticise you more often then."

"Hey… don't get too into it. If you do it all the time it'll lose it's novelty value."

"True… and then who would you listen to, huh?" Roach nodded, taking another step backwards towards the door. "I should let you sleep. I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early right?"

"The early part definitely." Lara smiled. "As for being bright… that much remains to be seen."

Lara waited for the door to be pulled closed before she moved forwards, her hands automatically flicking to the lock on her door and pulling it across. She let out a long, drawn out breath, turning round and resting back against the solid wood, her head thumping softly off the hard surface. For a moment she closed her eyes, her limbs hanging loosely at her sides as she attempted to decompress and consider everything that Roach had said.

Was it possible that she had underestimated Riley's care for her? Lara honestly didn't know. Roach seemed to think so at the very least. She'd been so sure that she could read Riley by now, so convinced that she knew exactly what he thought of her. After all, she knew that she'd gotten under his skin, he'd admitted that much to her on her birthday. She knew that he cared too, but that emotion itself was a far cry from anything more serious, especially when it came to someone who pretended to be cold as Riley did.

As for how she felt about Simon, well, that was a far more intricate tangle of emotions. However, although she couldn't be sure just what exactly she felt about him, Lara was almost positive about what she  _didn't_  feel for him.

 


	20. Cruel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

By its very nature, the 141's firing range was one of the least subdued places on the base. But just before an operation, it was a hive of activity that suddenly made the rec room look deserted.

Down the furthest part of the range were the men who were preparing to leave on the next operation, in this case Toad, Archer and Roach. They were all zeroing their weaponry and checking each of the magazines that they would be taking out into the field, their bodies lying prone on the earth, eyes fixed studiously down their gun sights. Beside them however, were the other men, all stood about taking practice shots to pass the time, their teasing comments and laughs floating high across the warm summer air.

Stretching out her shoulders as she walked, Lara stepped into the small armoury building beside the firing range, her eyes straining as they struggled to cope with the dimmer environment. In a routine that was now so second nature that she didn't even acknowledge it anymore she moved towards the armourer, giving him a soft smile in the process.

"Here she is, the queen of my heart." He said drily, his face splitting into one of his characteristic grins. For a man who spent most of his time alone in a room filled to the brim with weaponry he seemed constantly to be joking around, followed everywhere by hearty laughter at his own jokes. At well over six foot, with shoulders that seemed to be approaching six foot wide themselves, he was a giant of a man that most of the base referred to only as 'Bearcat'. "Don't tell me… The SA80 again?"

"If you don't mind, mate." McCoy nodded quickly. It was a predictable choice for someone from her background, but the gun she had been trained to use from the start of her military career felt like the most reliable choice open to her when she originally joined the 141.

"You sure I can't put an order in for you for something a little sexier?" Bearcat let out another large rumble of laughter.

"That gun's saved my arse a good few times." Lara shrugged. "I've grown quite fond of it."

"You women and your attachments." He shook his head, although his voice wasn't particularly unkind. "Two minutes, I'll go find it out for you." In reality it took far less than that, Bearcat returning with both Lara's rifle and a small box of 5.56mm rounds. He checked off the equipment meticulously on his list, before handing her a small slip of white paper and a pen. "Just give me your John Hancock and we can be done." He felt the need to point even though Lara had been through the exact same process what felt like hundreds of times before.

Stepping back out into the bright, early afternoon sunlight, Lara headed straight for the range, slotting herself into an available gap between Royce and Roach. Setting the small box of rounds gently down at her feet, she began to load her rifle, Royce's voice instantly ringing in her ears. He wasn't particularly talking to her, just anyone who happened to be close enough to listen.

"It's fucking typical, isn't it? First bit of A grade,  _real_ action and where's my cut?" The action he was referring to was currently the talk of the base, a small, stealth op where MacTavish had only chosen three men to complete his patrol. Due to OPSEC, only the men going on the mission were privy to its details, but that didn't mean that the others couldn't speculate or bitch about it in the mean time.

"We've hardly been short of ops." Lara added, crouching down and bringing her rifle up so that she could look down the sights.

"I meant real action, not the piss poor errands Shepherd's had us running on for the last few weeks."

"Don't let MacTavish hear you say that, bro." Roach laughed, turning to them both with an amused smile set across his features. "'Sides, Shepherd still signs your pay check whether you have your thumb up your ass here or not."

"It's all good for you though, isn't it, Gary?" Royce sighed. "You're the captain's new favourite, right? Or at least his new partner?"

" _Temporary_  partner." Roach shook his head. "And you know as well as I do that it's only because Riley isn't going." That had been the second major talking point; why their XO wasn't going on the operation along with MacTavish. In reality most of them realised that it was because another operation was probably in the works which Riley might have to lead instead of MacTavish, but then again it was a valuable excuse for even more idle gossip.

"Yeah well, just you fucking wait. At this rate you'll be a shoe in for second in command." Meat interjected, moving to stand beside his friend. "Regular straight A student, aren't ya, Gary?"

"Have you lot not finished your bitching yet?" Archer's riled tone suddenly rang out over the range, the older sniper moving upwards out of his prone position on the floor so that he was crouching. His face seemed angrier than his tone, his preferred Diemaco C8 rifle resting firmly in his hands. "'Cos some of us actually have work to do here."

"Just chill, man." Meat rolled his eyes.

"Chill?" Archer scoffed. He stood up, pushing past them deliberately on his way to the armoury. "Yeah, I'll remember that one the next time I'm getting my arse shot off." He turned quickly, giving a quick nod to Gary over his shoulder. "Roach, we're shipping out at 0800 hours tomorrow. Gear up at O700."

"Got it."

"Good." Jeff didn't exactly hang around for any other response, disappearing into the armoury with no further word.

"Nice to see that Archer's in a good mood then." Royce smirked.

"You're on  _his_  range." Toad grinned, approaching the group with what was presumably one of his partner's unlit cigarettes hanging out of his mouth. "He gets territorial, you know that."

"Oh yeah?" Meat cocked an unimpressed eyebrow. "And so why does he let you on here with him then?"

"Because he needs to know that I can shoot straight." Toad replied casually. "Besides, I'm  _quiet._ "

"Sorry…" Lara didn't succeed in holding back a scoff. "You?  _Quiet?_ "

"When I have to be." The sniper shrugged. "Anyways, if you want my advice then you'll stay out of Jeff's way. You might not give a damn about Archer throwing a shit-fit but some of us are going to have to spend the next few days spotting for him."

"Good point." Roach shrugged around his rifle.

"I'm full of them." Chris smiled, patting at the back pockets of his combats in search of his lighter. "If anyone wants me I'll be raiding the kitchen for the best ration packs. Try not to miss me too much, eh? " He gave them all a sly wink before heading for the armoury himself.

" _Dick_." Was Royce's only bitter response.

They fell into a steady silence after that, Royce and Meat hanging around to satisfy their need to shoot something before they too disappeared, leaving Lara and Roach alone on the range. They were both totally lost in what they were doing, McCoy focusing on each round she shot whilst Roach went through every one of his magazines, double checking them all methodically. For a long while the only sounds on the range were the clink of rifle working parts and the thunder of rapid fire.

"You must be feeling pretty pleased with yourself then, huh?" Lara grinned, lowering her rifle. She leant backwards slightly, giving Gary a warm smile. "You're the envy of the task force."

"Just a little." The sergeant smirked. "Although I'm not enjoying the added pressure."

"Pressure?"

"Of being picked for such a small patrol." Gary shrugged. "Right now, I just wanna be out there, you know?"

"I can see that." McCoy nodded to the magazines lined up beside him. "You guys have been out here for hours practicing."

"MacTavish gave us a bit of a pep talk in briefing." Roach laughed. "I think Shepherd's got his balls in a vice with this one and he wants us to know it." He paused, chewing on his lip idly. "Plus I just like being able to  _shoot_ , you know? Gives me some control. All this intel and planning is necessary and all but it's good to just get out here and be a soldier again."

"I know what you mean." McCoy indicated to her own rifle. "I like it out here. It feels… comfortable. I don't have to  _think._ "

"And you've been thinking a lot, right?" Roach gave her a knowing look, moving so that he was knelt fully, his weight rocking back onto his heels. He really didn't need to elaborate any further for Lara to catch his meaning.

"About Riley?" It was a rhetorical question but Gary nodded regardless. "Yeah, I guess I have."

"And?"

"And I'm not about to spill my guts all over the firing range." Lara shook her head, snapping the safety onto her rifle. "It's just… complicated."

"I get that." Roach nodded again softly, moving to stand up. Instinctively he held out his hand, pulling Lara to her feet. "But still… I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't mean-"

"Oh no you fucking don't, Gary." McCoy laughed kindly, interrupting him. "Last thing you need to be worrying about right now is me." She paused, watching as his features didn't appear to lift. "I'm serious. Get your shit together, ok?"

"God, self important much, Bones?" Roach joked. "I think I can just about manage to stop thinking about you when I'm stuck behind enemy lines."

"Don't be an ass. You know what I meant."

"Yeah, well… Don't you start with the pep talks too." Roach allowed a large grin to breach his lips, bending down to retrieve his magazines from the floor. "MacTavish's lectures are enough thanks."

"Careful there, Gary. You're starting to sound like you're scared of the captain."

" _Bitch_." Roach nudged her playfully in the arm, causing Lara to stumble slightly.

" _Cock._ " She pushed back against him with her shoulder, laughing all the while.

"Quit being so immature."

"Says you!" McCoy laughed again. " _You_  started it."

" _You_  antagonised me first." The sergeant shrugged. "Doesn't that count for anything?"

"No."

"Well fuck you too then." Gary smirked, indicating for her to follow him as he started off for the armoury. "Although… Wanna hit the kitchen with me? I might need someone to hold Chris down whilst I wrestle some of the good ration packs off him."

"Oh yeah? And what do I get in return?"

"Beer… lot's of it when I get back to base." Roach grinned. "Hell, I might even take you to our favourite bar in town."

"Is it a strip club?" Lara raised a cautious eyebrow.

"No. We don't let Toad pick  _everywhere_  we drink."

"In that case you've got a deal." McCoy laughed; reaching the armoury before him and holding the door open with one arm. "But you best keep your promises, Sanderson. You hear me?"

* * *

Before any big operation, McCoy was well used to being almost crippled by nerves, anxiety and countless 'what ifs'. It was an ominous dread in the pit of her stomach that even two tours of Afghanistan hadn't managed to shake. And yet there was still a feeling that was far worse; the worry and fear that hit when your friends were going out on an operation without you. No matter how unprofessional it felt, it was an undeniable presence at the back of her thoughts. After all, out on an operation she was around to help, to at least see events unfold as they happened. But back at base she was utterly powerless, helpless. Her friends could be wounded thousands of miles away and there'd be nothing in the world to stop her from feeling as though she should have been there helping to watch their back.

In short, that night had seen her tossing and turning in her bed more than she'd liked to admit. Knowing all too little about the operation simply made her insomnia worse, her mind whirling through what little information she had managed to piece together. In its entirety, it didn't tell her all that much, only that she'd seen some of the men wandering around the base with thermal kit and had overheard Mactavish mention climbing gear to Roach as they'd walked past the rec room. Knowing that the patrol were headed for somewhere freezing and mountainous was hardly reassuring, but as far as Lara was concerned she would happily take any information that she could get.

Normally, on sleepless nights such as these, she'd have found herself in Ghost's room. She was hardly proud of the fact, but there was no denying the fact that the lieutenant had quickly become a fix for her insomnia, giving her something to distract herself with when sleep felt impossible. Of course, that wasn't the entire story. There was no denying that Lara hadn't become attached to Riley, or at least to the man that she was still only just beginning to know. The sex had always, and probably would always be some of the best of her life, but in reality Lara found herself looking forward more to the after glow, to those uninhibited moments where Simon was just himself, no longer locked up behind wall after wall of front and bravado. It was the feeling of discovery that kept her coming back, the promise of removing one more of the lieutenant's emotional layers, of finally discovering what exactly made him tick. Predictably, over time getting to know the real Simon Riley had brought with it a true feeling of affection.

Roach however, had changed everything. Four nights previously he'd told her the truth, told her the words that she'd never really expected to hear. He'd been honest, blunt, and worst of all he'd been  _right._  She'd been oblivious, painfully so, not even stopping to think about just how attached Riley might be getting to her in return. As a result she hadn't slept with Riley since. She'd wanted to, but suddenly everything was ten times more complicated then she'd previously thought.

The air was humid as Lara made her way across the tarmac to the barracks, but a gentle breeze blew across her warm skin, sending a soft shudder down her spine. Above her the sky was empty of clouds and illuminated with specks of light, the stars unencumbered by ambient light. Ordinarily she'd have tried to stick it out in her room, but the warm air and suffocating sheets had made her mouth dry, the promise of ice cold water from the rec room suddenly all too tempting. She didn't really relish the walk, her steps all too reminiscent of those that she took to reach Riley's room, but the need for something to help her sleep drove her on.

She'd edged her way into the barracks quietly, keeping hold of the heavy metallic door for as long as possible so that it didn't slam shut. As usual the corridors were partially lit, the door to rec room hanging open and she drew closer. The room itself was dim, only lit by one lamp, but it was immediately clear that McCoy wasn't the only one who was restless, a shadowy figure stood in the kitchen, his back turned to her obliviously.

"We really need to stop meeting like this." Lara smiled from the doorway, her palms pressed against the wood. She laughed when MacTavish jumped, twirling round startled to look at her. "Or you're just going to end up with a reputation for late night drinking, sir."

"It's  _tea_." The captain indicated to the mug he was cradling in his hands.

"In that case I best not tell the men." She smirked. "They'd be distraught to find that their CO is a tea drinking nancy." Moving further into the room Lara settled herself against the kitchen counters, her arms folded tightly across her chest. "So… you can't sleep either then?"

"Too much on my mind." MacTavish shrugged. "I'm always like this before an op."

"You're leaving tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah. And I think I've just exhausted everything I can tell you about it."

"Whatever happens out there, you can handle it." She rolled her shoulders. "I might not know the mission but I at least know  _you_."

"Thanks." He nodded. "In fairness though, I'd be worried if I  _didn't_  get pre-match jitters like this."

"I guess it's the little things that show we care." Lara laughed. She watched him smile and sip at his tea, weighing up her next move. The smart thing would have been to grab her drink and retreat back to her quarters, but it was so rare for them to actually have the chance to talk alone that she was reluctant to end the conversation there. "Alright. You can at least tell me something."

"I told you, I  _can't_."

"Not about the operation." She tilted her head to one side. "About you."

"Me?"

"It's what I said isn't it?"

"Yeah… but why?" MacTavish watched her curiously, obviously wondering just where exactly she was going with the conversation.

"Because I'm interested. Besides, you owe me a bit of info." She smirked. "After all, you know everything about me yet I know next to nothing about you."

"You have all my medical records…"

"Not quite the same as all the psyche and background reports you have on me though, is it?"

"I didn't ask for all that."

"So?" Lara sighed. "Quit being such a big baby and just tell me something.  _Anything._ "

"Anything?" He looked sceptical, although a smile twitched across his features.

"Yes!"

"Fine then." MacTavish hesitated again, putting his tea down on the counter behind him. When he turned back around to face her he folded his arms across his chest too, effectively mirroring her body language. "Soap."

"What?"

"Soap." He gave her a quick smirk, obviously relishing her confusion. "You don't think I've always been known as Hotel Six, do you?"

"Soap?" Lara scoffed, watching him carefully. " _That_ was your call sign?"

"Hey! It's no worse than Meat or bloody Roach!"

"Yeah… but still. Soap? Really?"

"Really." MacTavish sighed. "I guess it was more of a nick name than anything else. I needed a call sign when I became SAS and I figured that it was as good as any."

"So how the hell does a person get a nickname like Soap in the first place?"

"Through playing rugby for the Scottish infantry." He sighed.

"Rugby?" Lara raised an amused eyebrow. "You know that explains so much. Don't tell me, you were one of the OCD blokes in your regiment, right? Or better yet, one of those who used to try and go weeks without shaving?"

"Nothing so obvious."

"So what then?"

"I dropped the soap." The captain shrugged. "In the showers after a match. A mate of mine found calling me Soap hilarious and I guess it just stuck."

"You should have kept it for the 141." Lara mused.

"It didn't quite feel right having it for a call sign when I made CO. So I followed Price's example and grew up I guess."

"Price?"

"A good friend. Hell, if it wasn't such a cliché I'd go so far as to call him my mentor." Soap nodded softly at the memory "He was my SAS captain."

"He sounds like a stand up bloke."

"He was…  _is_." Soap sighed, his features almost exasperated. "The toughest son of a bitch you'd ever meet. Hard as nails and as textbook SAS as I've ever seen. When he left the regiment I honestly wondered what he'd do."

"So where is he now?"

"I don't know. He went on the circuit; most blokes go into personal security in the end. He wasn't really the type to go quietly and retire with some creative writing degree." He let out a saddened laugh. "But then he just disappeared. Totally fell off the radar. I haven't heard from him since."

"Why would he do that?"

"It doesn't make sense." Soap shrugged. "You don't do this job without making enemies but… I tried looking for him, but I'm ashamed to admit that even I didn't know where to start. I knew him well sure, but Price kept his life outside of the regiment very close to his chest. I guess in the end we all do."

"Do you think he's alive?"

"I can't see anything putting Price down, but he's not invincible." MacTavish reached for his drink, taking a quick sip of tea in the process. "To be fair, I don't know what's worse. That he's gone dark and just decided to cut me off completely or that someone's finally managed to slot him." He sighed, obviously putting effort into turning the conversation around when a small smile pushed across his features. "I still wonder what he'd say about my command though. Can imagine him wondering just how a jumped up little jock like me ever made captain."

"It's funny…" Lara laughed kindly. "I can't imagine anyone belittling you like that."

"They don't tend to make a habit out of it, but as far as Price was concerned I was always going to answer to him no matter what. Chemo used to love reminding me of it whenever he could." Soap laughed. "Then again, if Jimmy wasn't ripping the shit out of you then the chances were he didn't think all that much of you to start with. You and him would have gotten along brilliantly."

"He must have been SAS too, right? If he knew you and Price?"

" _SBS_." Soap corrected. "But we work together a fair amount and Jimmy had had run ins with Price in the past." He laughed again. "It's a good job that he's not here to hear you call him SAS, though. Jimmy was proud Special Boat Service through and through."

"You guys don't get along then?"

"Think of it a bit like you Paras and the rest of the British army. What do you call us again?"

"Crap hats." McCoy smirked at the memory. It was true. Her old regiment saw itself as superior to everyone else and as a result anyone who wasn't a Para was referred to by the same derogatory term. Fully fledged members of the regiment were known as 'Toms'. "I was a regular Tomette."

"All mascara and stilettos at the front, eh?"

"Please…" McCoy grinned. "They were totally unfair about all of that. Forced me to leave my curling tongs back in Blighty and everything." She allowed herself a small giggle. "But seriously, I think there's still some government law about keeping women off the frontline."

"You're determined to break the mould wherever you go then, eh?"

"So it seems, although I doubt I could ever top all of this. Maybe I should retire and publish my memoirs. You never know, they might be a best seller."

"You'd have to go through all the regs first. Your manuscript would come back incomprehensible once they'd edited it to death." He laughed. "But give me a good write up, eh? Possibly mentioning my rakish good looks and incredible charisma every once in a while."

"So you want it to be a work of fiction then?"

"Bloody charming!" Soap scoffed. "You've been spending too much time around Chris obviously. I could have you both down for undermining my authority."

"You're blackmailing me now?" Lara smirked. "This is all going into the book, sir. You'll be immortalised as tyrant forever."

"Immortalised, eh?" Soap let out a deep sigh. "That's too big a word for me, McCoy."

"You don't want to be remembered?"

"Only by the people who count." He shrugged.

"And who are they?"

"My family… friends. You." He ran a subconscious hand across the back of his head.

"Am I not classed as one of your friends?"

"Lara…" Soap practically groaned, his tone almost warning. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah." She bit her lip, keen to move on. "So you're not one of these men with huge delusions of grandeur then?"

"The opposite. The most I'll ever want is to be put in the regimental plot back in Hereford. Maybe a couple of the lads visiting me everyone one in a while, having a shot of whisky and remembering to pour some on my grave for me." He smiled. "I have simple tastes."

"You've got it all planned out then?"

"Be stupid not to in this job." He rolled his shoulders. "I've never told anyone that though either."

"What?"

"Well, the burial part is in my will. But the whisky…" He tailed off for a moment. "That's always gone unsaid."

"I'm not sure I'm the best person to tell then."

"Is this more of your self deprecating bollocks, Bones?"

"No." She stated bluntly. "I'm just pretty sure that whoever takes you down will have slotted me long before."

"Oh yeah?" He cocked an eyebrow, although his mouth quirked into a soft smile. "We'll all go down together, eh?"

"Hell yeah."

"I like that." He laughed slightly, finishing off his tea. When his eyes met hers again they were more serious, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as a result. "But still… Promise me. Whether I go down tomorrow or in ten years time; get the lads together and throw some booze around for me, ok?"

"I might have to call in a few bribes if you want them to say something nice about you too." McCoy laughed politely, not liking the implications of their conversation. She'd kept with it out of the feeling that Soap needed the peace of mind before his operation, but the thought alone sent a cold shiver down her spine, one that she was keen to hide with false humour.

"Naturally." Soap smiled, although his features were less than jovial as he edged around her awkwardly to dump his empty mug in the sink. He cleared his throat before speaking again. "I best try that sleeping thing. Roach can be the best spotter in the world and it won't count for shit unless I get my head down." He watched McCoy nod softly. "You should probably get some rest too."

"Story of my life." There was a pause where McCoy felt like something was missing and so she reached out for his shoulder, giving it an almost awkward squeeze as though the physical contact somehow validated their goodbye. Their eyes met for a moment in silence, before Lara spoke again, removing her hand and pushing more good humour into her voice. "Take care out there, eh,  _Soap?_ "

"I will. And you better not make me regret telling you that, Bones…"

"Oh yeah?" She smirked. "Looks like I've finally got something over the famous Captain MacTavish..."

He left quickly, decisively, the room becoming a cold and silent void in his absence. Lara wasn't sure it was because her presence had made him feel awkward, or because in reality he hadn't wanted to go, but she'd pushed such thoughts away, instead listening to his footsteps fading down the corridor. She'd hoped that the sound would have been comforting but instead it only served to make her feel more alone, the rest of the base happily asleep whilst she, yet again, was still awake. Lara shook her body slightly as if to banish the thoughts, grabbing a glass and filling it with iced water from the cooler. Her mind was already spiralling down the common, self pitying path that insomnia often left her with, even though she'd been with MacTavish only minutes before.

There was of course the possibility that the sudden loneliness she felt came from the fact that he was no longer with her, but Lara pushed that away too. Somehow her desire to spend time talking with the captain felt far more pathetic than the simple insecurities brought on by her lack of sleep.

"Gettin' cosy with the captain, eh?" Right then the smug, cockney accent was the last thing Lara wanted to hear, making her reluctant to even turn around. Instead she blinked hard, taking a measured sip of water and waiting for the voice to either continue or go away. "I swear that makes at least one of you a hypocrite somewhere, you know."

"Can't sleep, Simon?" Lara said slowly. Behind her she distinctly heard Ghost step into the room, the door clicking shut behind him. She knew that she'd only been able to hear him because he'd allowed her to.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I don't flatter myself with thinking that you've actually taken to stalking me now." McCoy shook her head, placing the glass down onto the counter beside her, an action which served to give her essential time to think.

"You fucked off again though, didn't you?" Riley replied, nonchalant.

"Oh come off it. You see me everyday."

"You know what I bloody well mean." She heard him come to a standstill behind her, the soft scrunching sound of fabric telling her that he'd come to rest against one of the kitchen counters. "I asked you to give me some space and you take it to the extreme." He let out a soft scoff. "Or what? Don't you have an itch that I can scratch for you anymore? Is that it?"

McCoy had turned around in a flash, all anger and irritation. All the while she'd had her back to him she'd imagined his face, imagined his mouth curve into that familiar sneer as the blunt, crass words left his mouth. She'd seen the satisfaction in his features all too clearly in her mind's eye, the very image making her blood boil in her veins. And yet, when she finally faced him, everything she'd imagined wasn't there. In the dim light of the rec room, his face wasn't smug or even amused. It was cold, deadly serious, his eyes piercing straight into hers. The look he gave her instantly cooled her blood, the hurt in his eyes catching her immediately off guard.

"…Simon…" The word tumbled from her lips before she even realised it.

"What?" He spat, leaning back against the counter and throwing back his head in disbelief. "You really thought I was just going to sit back and take this?" He shook his head. "Forget what I said before. You really  _don't_  know me."

"Take what?"

"You think that I'm stupid now too, huh? Or oblivious, which to be honest is the same fucking thing." Ghost rolled his eyes. "You've been avoiding me, just like you did before your birthday. You don't actually have the balls to come and give me warning so I have to just sit and work it all out for myself." He let out another dark laugh. "Except this time it's different. Back then you had a reason… I'd said some shit to you and you were pissed,  _fine_. But this time? This time it's like you're just trying to faze me out altogether."

"You've got it all wrong, Simon…"

"Really? And what exactly have I got wrong this time?" He cocked a single eyebrow. "Because from where I'm standing it's as if you're just trying to get rid of me."

"Would you fucking stop it?" Lara found herself hissing in an instant, the anger in her voice more at herself than at him. She bit her lip, attempting to calm herself, but suddenly even speech itself felt impossible. "It's not like that… I'm not sick of you."

"Then you do a damn shit job of showing it."

"It's not as simple as that, Riley."

"How can it be fucking complicated?" Ghost laughed, his tone exasperated. "We fuck. I make you come and you do the same. What else is there to it?"

"Are you really trying to pretend that that is all it still is?" This time it was McCoy's turn to scoff, suddenly all of the inner frustration and confusion from the last few days leaking out into her voice. "We're not just sex, Riley! We haven't been for fucking weeks!"

"So you have realised." She'd expected to have been met with the same degree of anger, but Ghost's voice was flatter, almost monotone when he finally spoke. He nodded bitterly, pushing off the counter and moving so that he was in front of her. "After everything you've said to me and even  _you_ still thought that I wasn't capable of actually giving a shit about anyone anymore. And now that you've realised that I can… it scares you fucking shitless, doesn't it?"

In her countless hours of imagining this very conversation, Lara had never dreamed of Riley actually saying those words to her face. Just hearing them left a bitter feeling in the pit of her stomach, guilt flooding through every inch of her body instantly. Because Ghost was right. Even though she'd told him countless times that he wasn't dead inside, Lara had still managed to underestimate just  _how much_  the lieutenant could still feel. She'd been oblivious to it at the time, but that made little difference right then.

"I never meant-" Her mouth was in freefall now, words tumbling from her lips without check. Quickly Lara took hold of herself, forcing her brain into some kind of clarity. "I fucking care about you, Riley. You know I do."

"Oh yeah? And where does that put me in your little pecking order, eh? After Gary? After Chris and fucking Ozone?"

"You were the one who asked for no fucking attachment!" She was suddenly inexplicably angry again, her fists clenching as she stepped closer to him, being sure to get right in his face. "You wanted no strings from the start…"

"And you kept pushing didn't you?" Ghost scoffed. "You pushed for us to fuck that second time… quizzed me about my pills! You were the one who asked me to stay that night… the one who fucking mentioned my nephew!" Riley advanced on her further, his face barely inches from hers, hot breath brushing against her lips. "You always wanted  _more_  from me… Why?"

"Because I wanted you to bloody wake up, Riley!" Lara hissed, shoving forwards against his chest. "Behind all that emotional baggage and fucking arrogance is a decent man. A  _good_  man."

"… So you  _did_  want to save me, eh?" The words left Ghost's mouth as a twisted laugh. "I might have started out as convenient but you kept me around as a pity fuck?"

"No!" Lara shook her head emphatically. "I kept you around because I started to _care_  about you. Started to see you for more then that sodding mask you hide behind."

"And the fact that I was a good lay meant nothing, right?" Riley bit his lip, his right arm tensing as if he was stopping himself from lashing out at her. "Face it, Lara. I know what I've always been to you. I always have done. But I was actually stupid enough to think that you'd have the guts to tell it to me straight someday."

"You don't know what you're saying…" She might have been standing in the middle of a room, but Lara had never felt so cornered. She was determined not to show this though, squaring up to him in defiance.

"I've told you, I'm not blind. I'm not deaf. I see the way you look at him… the way  _he_  looks at you. The way you fucking talk like rank just doesn't exist." He scoffed. "If he could have been the one pummelling me into next week instead of Gary then I know he would have, whether I was his best mate or not."

" _Riley_ …-"

"Cut the sympathetic bollocks, Lara." Ghost shook his head dismissively. "I don't love you. I never fucking have. But if you think I'm going to stand around playing second best…" He tensed his jaw. "Then like I said, you really don't know me."

"So why now, eh?" Bones hissed, raising the volume of her voice as loud as she dared, her nails biting into her palms. "If you've known for so fucking long then why are things any different now?"

"Because at first I couldn't care less. It was obvious that the only thing stopping you and MacTavish from falling into bed was the fact that you were fucking me. And you know what? I thought that was funny.  _Pathetic_. I thought that you both bloody deserved it." He let out a large breath, as though the malice in his words had required too much effort. "But then you started pulling all that psychologist bullshit on me. Tried to get in here." He tapped at his skull. "And you fucking managed it, didn't you?"

"That wasn't bullshit, Riley… for fuck's sake, it was real!"

"Real, huh?" He laughed darkly. "And how do I know anything you tell me is real, McCoy? Because the way I see it you've been trying to kid me for months. You've been so lost that you've even been trying to kid yourself." He gave her a bitter smirk. "Ironic that, isn't it? Here you are… trying to help me and the one person who really needed to sort themselves out was you all along…"

"Stop it…" Lara shook her head slowly, her words suddenly shaking. Her voice was low, every muscle in her body feeling tense. "Don't you dare try and get into my head…"

" _Hypocrite._ " Riley spat. "Am I getting a little bit close to home here, Bones? That's usually when it all stops being my business..."

"And where do you get off thinking that I'm the fucking bad guy here?" Lara tilted her head, her teeth biting almost painfully into her bottom lip as she watched his features. "I shouldn't have let things get this far,  _fine._  I get that. But since you've known about everything from the bloody start…" She pushed her hands against his chest again. "Surely you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into?"

" _Fuck you_. If that what helps you sleep at night,  _love_."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you can put whatever spin on this you bloody well like, but it won't change anything. You're a fucking whore, Lara. It doesn't matter how you try and dress it up."

Her right arm moved of its own accord, a loud smacking sound erupting into the air as her fist collided with the hard ridge of Riley's jaw. She'd obviously caught the lieutenant off guard slightly, his body stumbling from the impact, his eyes wide and blinking in shock. However the confusion didn't last and Lara stood her ground when Riley advanced on her quickly, blue eyes locked straight onto hers. A knowing smirk plastered its way across his lips as he squared up to her, although he didn't raise an arm to strike her as she had half expected.

"Go on then." The lieutenant spat, the dark smile still spread across his features. "Hit me again if it makes you feel better." The slightly amused edge to his voice almost made him sound as if he was enjoying the entire situation. "Well? What the fuck are you waiting for? Eh, Bones?"

"Get out of my face.  _Now._ " By now Lara was pushing every bit of authority into her voice that she could muster.

" _Pathetic._ " Riley rolled his eyes. "So that's it then? We're done here?"

"We're done. Go find some other whore to fuck with."

"And you'd just love that, wouldn't you?"

"You can go do whatever the hell you want." She shook her head, running her tongue across her teeth in distaste. "Because this?" She gestured in between them both with a single hand. " _This_  has been one of the biggest fucking mistakes of my life."

"Yeah…" Riley laughed darkly, his mouth still drawn up into a smile that his low, more serious tone couldn't quite carry. "For me too."

McCoy didn't watch him leave, instead turning her back on him when she heard the rec room door swing open ominously. She didn't immediately realise how tightly wound her body had become until she tasted the faint metallic tang of blood from where her teeth had bitten into the inside of her bottom lip. Frustration suddenly came rocketing through her system and she lashed out, smacking her right hand against the nearby kitchen counter as hard as physically possible. Shockwaves of pain rocketed up the length of her fore arm, reverberating through the bone and yet it wasn't enough to release the pent up emotion that was still caged within her system.

_"Face it, Lara. You came here with this huge female chip on your shoulder. Now you've fucked it all up and we're not going to look at you in the same way._ _Deal with it_ _."_

Her eyes closed, Lara's mind flew back to what Meat had said to her weeks before. She'd realised back then that Greg had been right, but suddenly now the words left a new, bitter taste in her mouth. After all, what she had said to Riley had been true. They had been a huge mistake. One that she doubted she'd be able to fix, no matter how long she spent with the 141.

 


	21. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

"Kilo Six-One, the primary exfil point is compromised! We're en route to the backup LZ using enemy transport! Meet us there, over!"

When a volley of bullets felt as though they'd shot straight past his right ear, MacTavish's thumb instinctively pushed against the snowmobile's throttle, his knuckle turning white from the added pressure.

The jolt of the machine beneath him was undeniable. Its speed steadily increased, the surrounding trees and snow drifts blazing through his peripheral vision. The muscles in his forearms tightened along with his grip, his arms taking the strain as the machine constantly threatened to veer off out of control. Another volley of gunfire and MacTavish adjusted his body position, hunching down into the machine in the hopes that it might increase his speed. Behind him he heard more machine gun fire, although this time it was more distant, aimed at Roach who he hoped to god was still following him closely.

"Don't slow down! Keep moving or you're dead! Go! Go! Go!" MacTavish felt as though he was yelling into thin air, unable to turn around and look over his shoulder at Roach for fear that he'd lose control himself. Instead, Soap kept his eyes firmly forward, steeling himself as his snowmobile lurched over a dip, crashing down onto the snowy embankment of an iced over lake. A scattering of armed men on foot attempted to fire on him and MacTavish dared raise his G18, firing in short inaccurate bursts that did little but buy him a small amount of time. Almost immediately the harsh Russian shouting faded behind him and he veered right, the snowmobile skidding as itslid onto the ice of the lake. There was the unmistakeable beating of helicopter blades above him and instinctively Soap weaved, instantly regretting the action when the snowmobile jerked beneath his thighs, the steering unsteady and threatening. With what felt like every inch of strength in his body, Soap managed to pull the machine back on course, just managing to skirt around the barren body of a long felled tree. There was no time to breathe any sigh of relief however with more bullets sounding behind him, soon followed by a distinct, ominous explosion.

"Roach! Roach, talk to me, mate!" It took all the restraint MacTavish possessed to stop him from looking back, his sudden grip on the snowmobile causing his fingers to feel numb.

" _I'm OK, but we've got three plus tangos on our six!"_

"Keep moving, we'll outrun them over the ridge!" MacTavish hit the obstacle first, his body jumping out of its seat from the impact as the snowmobile clattered back down onto the snow. There was another similar crash behind him, presumably Roach and MacTavish sped forwards down the steep slope, the adrenaline now channelling through his system the only thing that prevented panic from settling in his stomach. At speed the slope felt almost vertical, Soap's entire body shaking from both exertion and anticipation as he tried to hold his snowmobile steady and gain the maximum amount of momentum possible.

" _Bravo Six, we're at bingo fuel. What's your status, over?"_

"Kilo Six-One, we're taking heavy fire but we're almost there! Standby!" MacTavish inwardly cursed, his breath hitching when he had to ease off his throttle to allow him to loop past a large tree. It stood wider than he'd allowed for and a thin branch managed to whip across his face, the needles biting into his skin and ripping across his cheek. MacTavish barely felt a thing, only just aware of the slight warmth as his blood oozed from the fresh cut, greeted by the iced air that felt as though it was pushing against his face. He pressed his thumb fully against the throttle again. "Roach! Pin the throttle! Keep going!"

" _Copy that!"_

The weightlessness that came with jumping the gap at the bottom of the slope lasted barely a second, but it was enough to have MacTavish's heart pounding beneath his rib cage. His entire body's aim was to hold the snowmobile straight, his muscles seizing up from the fear that even a single movement might throw him off course. The snowmobile engines groaned and whirred, MacTavish easing off the throttle as the he landed heavily on the ground, the steering wobbling perilously as he fought to regain control on the slippery terrain. Hauling the vehicle back onto a straight path, MacTavish was immediately back on the throttle, the increase in speed at least managing to quieten some of the insecurities that were biting at the back of his mind.

"There's the chopper! Let's go!" He was urging himself on now more than anything else, MacTavish hunching down against the snowmobile once more out of instinct. He set his jaw, the chopper's proximity only serving to heighten his feeling of vulnerability. The end might have been in sight, but that didn't mean that they were out of the woods yet.

" _Bravo Six we have you on visual. Get your asses on board, we're running on fumes here!_

"Copy that, Kilo-Six One!" MacTavish found himself yelling, finally allowing the snowmobile to slow up so that he could aim for the ramp that was lowered from the helicopter before his very eyes. He held his arms steady, keeping his focus on the ramp and very little else. In his ears he could already hear Roach's triumphant whoops across their comms but MacTavish blotted them out, not able to tell himself that the mission was over until he was finally on board that chopper.

"Okay, they've got the ACS! We're outta here!" The crew chief yelled out as soon as they were on board, the ramp automatically closing as they began to gain altitude. Darkness slowly began to creep in around them and Soap released the breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding, his fingers loosening their vice-like grip on the snowmobile handlebars. For what felt like the first time in an age, MacTavish was finally able to turn around and face his exhausted partner, Roach pulling off his goggles and giving him a large, exhilarated grin.

"Now  _that_ was a fucking scenic route..."

* * *

Hours later, they were being packed into the cabin of a C-17 manned by a Shadow Company crew. Soap recognised a couple of the guys from their flight out to Kazakhstan almost a week before, but he didn't particularly acknowledge any of the men, simple nodding to them as he took his place on the aircraft. Despite them all receiving direct orders from the same CO, the truth was that neither the 141 nor Shadow Company shared any real affinity towards each other, and as a result camaraderie between the two was hard to come by. In truth, both factions probably saw the other as competition.

Although boarding their exfil helicopter had been a huge relief, MacTavish hadn't felt truly at peace until they were back at their FOB and could rendezvous with Toad and Archer. The sniper team had been covering their movements through the mountains, providing long range sniper support on their approach to the base, and as a result they had had a separate, less dramatic exfil. Only when the four of them were reunited at the FOB did Soap truly allow himself to believe that the mission had been a success. After all, his team was intact, the ACS had been recovered and for all intents and purposes it was as if it had never fallen into Russian hands in the first place.

Now, they were on their way back to the 141's base, the four of them spread out within the vast cabin of the C-17. It had struck MacTavish as insane that such a small patrol would be transported back within such a large aircraft, but in reality none of them were complaining, each of the men glad of the bounty of personal space. Before take off and amongst the hum of the engines they had already begun their preparations, each of them pulling their hammocks from their Bergens and pinning them up to the cabin walls. They were all well used to long, tedious plane journeys and as a result they'd learnt that the key to a successful flight was a good dose of Zaleplon, their sleeping pill of choice. The idea was to pop the pill just after take off, practically guaranteeing them a period of comfortable unconsciousness which in theory would last the duration of their journey home. MacTavish of course, was the exception. There was something about pills that always put him on edge, and as a result he would always try and sleep naturally before he resorted to the little white tablet sitting in his back pocket.

A couple of hours into their journey, the heavy breathing that encompassed the cabin suggested that the drug had worked for the others. The lights were low and dim, the bodies of his squad reduced to shadows and silhouettes within the gloom. Across the cabin from him were Toad and Archer, their hammocks still close enough for them to talk and swap cigarettes yet far enough apart to allow for a good deal of personal space. On Soap's side of the cabin was Roach, the sergeant one the few men who was actually able to sleep upright, his seat kicked back and his hands knotted across his chest. He was grunting softly in his sleep, something that would have driven the rest of the men insane if they hadn't all been so exhausted in the first place.

MacTavish himself was dozing. The soft turbulence of the plane kept forcing him awake but he fought to keep his eyes closed, wriggling in his hammock in an eternal struggle to get comfortable. The Zaleplon in his pocket suddenly feeling very attractive, Soap screwed his eyes closed tighter, attempting to blank his mind in the process. It didn't work, and the action caused the cut across his right cheek to burn through his skin, a painful reminder of their operation only hours before.

Adrenaline was a funny thing. At the time, Soap had barely registered any pain, his mind totally focused on their exfil and little else. It was only when they were back at the helicopter, his body trembling and his knees weak that Soap had begun to feel all the cuts, bruises and knocks from the mission, the dissipating hormone leaving his muscles with an uncomfortable dose of reality. It was natural, a feeling that was unpleasant and yet some how satisfying, the adrenaline rush always worth the following come down. Hell, sometimes the chemical itself was the one thing that got Soap through some of the shit that they saw and experienced.

But now, lying in the dark of the plane's cabin, Soap was suddenly filled with another feeling that he wasn't quite so used to.  _Fear_. And as the events of that day flashed in front of his mind's eye, MacTavish was unable to stop the emotion from growing in intensity.

It wasn't as though he'd never stared down a gun before. It wasn't something that you got  _used_  to, but it was something that always felt worse in retrospect. Soap wasn't scared to die. Sure, he didn't plan on it happening any time soon, but he was resigned to it, well used to the idea that a bullet would be what ended his life. In practice, waiting for that bullet to come had never been as haunting as he'd imagined it to be, that morning on the Russian base no different. At first his body had been acting on pure instinct, his old friend adrenaline blocking out any trace of fear from his mind. MacTavish had suddenly been well and truly powerless, out of control, an alien feeling that seemed to have a strangely calming effect. There'd been no 'what ifs', no silent regrets or hopeless thoughts, only silence as he took in what might have been his last breath, waiting for that shot to be fired and for the darkness to come.

This time he'd been lucky. The C4 that Roach had planted as their plan B had saved his life and as a result MacTavish was returning to their base in one piece. And yet, as his mind began to whir out of control, Soap couldn't stop his thoughts from moving to places that he simply didn't want them to go to, the Captain steadily growing more frightened with every image that flashed across his brain. It was like someone had opened the flood gates, all of the emotions that he should have felt hours ago beginning to hit him full on, terrifying thoughts forcing their way to the foreground before he had the chance to restrain them.

He was back in the hangar, his arms high in the air, a stream of bullets tearing through his torso. Soap's heart jumped involuntarily in his ribcage as the image flickered across his mind's eye and he blinked hard, as though the act alone might somehow push it from thought. In reality what came next was a flurry of even darker thoughts, scenarios that he never dared let himself play out in free fall now before his very eyes. His parents, stood mournfully as they opened the yellow letter that they'd been dreading for over eleven years. His sister, thick black tears staining her cheeks as she read some god awful poem that she knew he'd hate. His men, gathered around his grave with a solitary bottle of whisky. And Lara, grimly determined to bite back her own tears as Roach pulled her into a comforting embrace.

Instantly, Soap's eyes flew open. His pulse had quickened and he instinctively took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly in an effort to calm down. He cursed himself instantly, suddenly feeling so ashamed that in the few minutes where he'd lowered his guard he'd managed to let every single one of his fears and insecurities tumble into view. Everything he'd seen, he secretly dreaded, scenarios that would happily haunt his sleep if he let them. It was rare, but whenever those fears took hold, usually when he was alone in the depths of night, Soap could only ever be crippled by them.

Dying was something that he'd accepted, dying on the job, even more so. But leaving behind the people he loved?  _That_ was what his nightmares were made of.

* * *

As Lara aimed another, less than perfect punch into Riley's jaw, she felt her entire right arm reverberate from the contact.

In reality, she was hitting a punching bag, her gloved hands bouncing off the thick leather with increasing determination. Riley himself was elsewhere, probably down at the firing range laying into the targets with something automatic. McCoy was determined not to give a shit either way.

Except she  _did_. It had been five days since they'd come to blows in the rec room and over that time Lara had felt increasingly worse about their entire situation. She'd wanted to leave it a few days for them both to cool off before even approaching Ghost, but the truth was that no matter how hard she tried, Riley was understandably in no mood to talk. He'd been in the gym that morning when she arrived to train, instantly packing up his gear as soon as he'd even laid eyes on her. It wasn't as though he was ceding ground as he purposefully strode out of the room, but the disgusted way he looked at her had spoken volumes. To put it bluntly, Simon Riley just didn't want to be breathing the same air as her if he could help it.

Lara didn't know what felt worse. The fact that she'd been so painfully oblivious for so long or the fact that Ghost wasn't going to give her chance to even _try_ and rectify her mistakes.

" _Shit,_  Bones." A sudden voice startled her and Lara swung wildly, her right hand glancing off the edge of the punching bag and causing it to swing out to the side. A pair of hands moved out from her left to hold it still, quickly followed by the smiling face of Roach, the sergeant laughing as Lara fought to catch her breath. "That wasn't me you were pummelling there, right?"

"Gary..." She wasn't a huge fan of public displays of affection and so McCoy instead opted for a quick squeeze of his left arm, inwardly hoping that the smile that suddenly sprang out across her features would say the rest for her. She grinned, giving him a quick visual once over. "You're shorter than I remember."

" _Fuck you._ " Roach's face was filled with mock offence as he straightened up, pushing out his chest in the process. "I'm still taller than  _you_."

"With a bigger beard too." Lara smirked, reaching up and angling his jaw towards her for a closer look. He wasn't exactly heavily bearded, but the long stubble formed a prominent shadow across his jawline, coarse beneath her fingers. "What's this? Trying to give Royce a run for his money or something?"

"Very funny. I've been back on base for about an hour and I chose catching up with you over shaving, OK?"

"I'm flattered." Lara gave him a quick smile. "You found the time to shower though, that's a small mercy at least."

"I wouldn't wish the alternative on anyone, even  _you_."

"Clearly." Lara laughed. "But, you're all OK?"

"You'd know if I wasn't, right?" Roach smirked in return. "I'm totally fine. A few bruises but nothing to bitch about."

" _Damn._ And here's me looking forward to having something else to medicate aside from Meat's hangovers."

"Sorry for the disappointment."

"I think I can just about handle it." Lara smiled, resting her hands on her hips. "Besides, I missed you."

"Yeah well, I might have missed you too. Five days with Toad and I was almost ready to shoot him myself."

"Yeah, yeah. You two are like brothers and you know it." Bones shook her head mockingly. "But I appreciate the sentiment all the same."

"It's good to be back anyway." He nodded towards the punching bag. "And it looks like 141 life didn't slow down without me either."

"How do you mean?"

"You and the bag were going at it. Whose ass were you kicking this time?" Roach's knowing look said it all, the sergeant folding his arms across his chest slowly as though it further proved his point. When McCoy replied with a raised eyebrow he laughed, glancing around the room quickly. "What? Haven't we made enough small talk for me to ask the good stuff yet?"

"Who said that I was kicking  _anyone's_  arse?"

"I did. Face it, Bones. I've seen you box three times the entire time you've been here, usually when Meat's been acting like a little bitch. So who's got you pissed this time, huh?"

"I fucking  _hate_  you."

"See? I'm so right." He laughed triumphantly. "Come on, what have I missed?"

"I don't think right now's the time to talk about it."

"Why?" Gary looked over his shoulder, indicating to where Rook and Scarecrow were lifting weights at the far end of the room. "No one's listening."

"That's not the point. I'm not going into personal shit in the gym, Gary."

"So it  _is_  about Riley then?"

" _What?_ " Lara practically spluttered. "How did you-"

"Credit it me with some intelligence, Bones. Even  _I_ remember what we talked about before I left." Roach shook his head, moving around to the other side of the punching bag. "You told him, didn't you?"

" _Roach_..."

"Didn't you?" He persisted, tapping the punching bag with his fingers as an incentive. Lara caught the hint, throwing a punch into the leather whilst he stopped it from swinging backwards.

"You were right." She replied after a moment, biting her lip as she threw another two punches at the bag. McCoy hissed, taking in a hurried breath before speaking again. "I didn't realise just how deep I'd gotten."

"Did he?"

"I don't know. He said that he knew what it was from the start..." She paused, concentrating as she threw another three punches. "But I told him that he was a mistake..." She lashed out sharply this time, the pain in her wrist as the punch hit home feeling deserved. "I shouldn't have said that. I certainly didn't  _mean_  to. I was angry, I wasn't exactly thinking straight, you know?"

"And was he? A mistake I mean." Roach was looking at her with an intense expression that he'd mastered by now.

"No. He  _wasn't._ " In a flurry of movement, Lara sent another set of punches flying into the bag, her forearms aching with every jab and uppercut. She kept going until she felt her heart quicken in her chest, a cold film of sweat dampening her brow as she slowed her movements, holding onto the punching bag for support while she regained her breath. When she met Roach's eyes again her voice was softer, defeated. "I  _care_  about Riley... one hell of a lot. I have for some time now."

"Do you love him?"

"No." Pulling off one of her gloves with her teeth, Lara ran a bare hand across the top of her head. "We're too different for that. We always were. But love him or not..." She sighed, her shoulders hunching forwards. "I never meant to hurt him like this. I didn't think that I  _could._ "

"Riley's a tough guy, it's not like he's not going to bounce back from this."

"No, but the point is that he shouldn't _have_  to." Lara shook her head. "It was me who always tried for more, me who always pushed for him to open up. Not because I was trying to save him... but..." She paused, struggling for the right words. "... Because I wanted to show him that he didn't  _need_  saving. He's a good man. I just wanted him to see what I was starting to see. I didn't even notice the bigger picture of what I was doing." She knocked her head against the punching bag. "I'm so fucking  _stupid._ "

"Not stupid." Roach sighed, resting a hand on her back so that she'd look up at him. "Oblivious to the point of hurtful, maybe. But  _not_  stupid." He gave her a soft smile. "You had the best of intentions. You didn't go into this just to use him, right?"

"I guess we both went into it using each other." Lara shrugged weakly. "But it didn't stay like that for long."

"Then you can't be the only one to blame. I'm not saying that you're all pure and innocent in this but..." He hesitated. "You could have pushed all you wanted, but Riley still had to physically  _let_  you in somehow, right? If he knew what it was from the start like he said then, well, I guess he can't blame you entirely for letting things get out of control."

"I appreciate that." Lara nodded slowly. "But there's no quick fix for this. _I'm_  the guilty party here, Gary, however we spin it. Just believe me on that one at least."

"Then try and learn from it. Find something positive out of all this."

"I'm totally giving up on Army boys, does that count?" Lara laughed weakly, desperately attempting to make the tempo of the conversation upbeat again. She could tell that Roach wasn't convinced by the look on his face, but he laughed out of politeness, nodding quickly.

"Maybe that's a good place to start."

"At this rate I might just give up on men altogether." She went on to grin. "I was at school with some very hot girls you know..."

"Now you're just toying with me." Roach smirked, pulling away from the punching bag and inclining his head towards the gym door. "How about we continue this later when you aren't sweating and I've not got this fungus growing on my face? Hopefully after a few beers too."

"Rec room?"

"Rec room." Gary grinned. "Toad was talking about celebrating later tonight. I think he's onto something there."

"Well count me in. A week without you boys and my alcohol consumption practically  _stops_." Lara smiled, gathering up her things and heading for the door with him. "I won't mind standing next to you when you look half decent again either." She just about managed to dodge Roach's attempt to nudge her into the gym door frame.

"Oh yeah? So what's your excuse?"

Roach being back on the base didn't stop Riley from being livid with her, nor did it put an end to the guilt that was still deeply manifested within Lara's gut. And yet the sergeant's teasing had still managed to improve McCoy's mood ten fold. After all, no matter how tense base life might feel, it was comforting to know that there were some things within the 141 that would never really change.

* * *

His office might have been one of the furthest from the rec room but even that didn't stop the rumble of distant music from reaching MacTavish. The bass practically vibrated through the walls, accompanied by an almost tinny sounding repetitive kick-snare rhythm that reminded Soap of the less than desirable club music of his adolescence.

The Captain allowed himself a small smile. He could see the scene in the rec room as though he was stood amongst it, his men split into their usual friendship groups as they drunk themselves into far less lucid states. From the style of music that was playing MacTavish could tell that Royce was DJing, something that Toad would no doubt be bitching about over the rim of a bottle of vodka to anyone stupid enough to listen.

In reality, Soap should have been in there along side his men, loud conversations and even louder music just what he needed to blot out his less than peaceful night on board the C-17. And yet, Soap stayed in his office, because that way there was no danger of him becoming lost in his thoughts like he had been on Meat's birthday. More importantly, there was no chance of anyone noticing, and therefore Soap was able to avoid any awkward questions that he quite frankly just didn't feel like answering.

Or at least, that was the  _theory_.

" _Sir?_ "

"Yes?" The small sound from outside his office door shook Soap out of his current train of thought and he automatically straightened up in his seat, just about managing to stop his voice from turning into a wearied groan as he answered.

At first there was no reply, until the door slowly creaked open. Soap looked on confused as Lara backed into the room cautiously, the Captain instinctively raising an eyebrow even though she blatantly couldn't see him. "Um, McCoy?"

"I brought tea." The medic said quickly, inching around so that he could see the two mugs she was gripping in both her hands. Extreme concentration filling her features, McCoy kicked the door shut behind her before moving forwards and depositing the mugs onto his desk carefully. When she finally did look up at him her smile was warm and at ease. "I might have slipped some whisky in them too. For medicinal purposes only of course."

"Of course." Soap fought hard to stop a smile playing out across his features, clearing his throat for lack of anything better to do. He glanced at Lara quickly, noticing a Manila folder tucked under her right arm and nodding to it. "What's the file?"

"Something a little more professional." Bones laid the folder down onto the table in front of him, tapping at it idly. "Just some reports for Shepherd. I thought that you might be able to take a look at them and tell me if I'm barking up the wrong tree anywhere."

MacTavish merely laughed in response, choosing to sip at his tea rather than reply properly. Lara McCoy had many faults, but they both knew that her paperwork was not one of them and therefore she had little need of a second opinion from him or anyone else. In all honesty, Soap didn't mind. Though transparent, the act of her coming to see him was surprisingly welcome. If there _were_  going to be questions, then MacTavish decided that he'd rather they be from McCoy than anyone else.

"That's a nasty cut." They'd slipped into a comfortable silence as they sipped at their drinks, until Lara's voice spoke out thoughtfully. She nodded to Soap's face, watching him over the top of her mug.

"I've had worse."

"Have you had it seen to?"

"Someone looked at it back at the FOB, that's good enough for me."

"Good enough for you maybe, but not for me." The medic shook her head decisively. "I'd rather see for myself, just to be sure."

" _Bones..._ "

"I wasn't really asking, sir." Lara sighed, putting her tea down and moving towards to the other side of his desk. She stood over him expectantly, tutting when she noticed his disapproving look. "You might be Captain, but your injuries are just as much my responsibility as anyone else's."

"It's not even an injury."

" _Quiet._.." Lara hissed, gently taking his face in her hands and tilting it into the light. "I can't look at you properly if you're whining."

There was an awkward pause as Lara held his face, her thumbs angling the cut towards her eyes. The split skin stung instantly from the action but Soap was careful not to let it register on his face, keeping his features blank as she stared down intently at him. The way she'd tilted his head made it difficult for him to avoid her eyes and instead MacTavish found himself watching them idly, noting how they darted from side to side as she stared into his cut.

"Shouldn't you be celebrating anyway?" Lara asked abruptly, letting go of his face . She leant back against his desk, folding her arms loosely across her chest. "Everyone else is busy living it up in the rec room, you know." She laughed slightly as another song began, the music drifting into Soap's room just as prominently as the track before it. "You can bloody well  _hear_  them from all the way down here."

"I'm too tired." Soap lied. "How bad is it in there?"

"Pretty rowdy." McCoy shrugged. "Or I'm not drunk enough to stomach it yet... one of the two."

"Ah... So it is one of  _those_  celebrations then."

"Toad was behind it all, so I guess we shouldn't be too surprised. He did have some help from Archer, but I think that he's just as bad deep down."

"Most likely. But let them drink anyway. They all bloody deserve it."

"Some major celebrating to be done if you ask me." Lara nodded "The op was a success after all, right?"

"How did you know?"

"After you checked in at your FOB, Riley kind of announced it in the rec room. He didn't tell us any of the gory details of course, just that you'd done the job and were all still live and kicking." He watched as Lara's hand graduated up into her hair, messing through it awkwardly. There was something about how she'd mentioned the lieutenant's name that struck him as out of the ordinary.

"I'm sure you were all worried sick." MacTavish said quickly, deciding to divert the conversation away from Ghost.

"You know as well as I do that we usually operate on 'no news is good news'. But yeah, it's hard to settle when your friends are out there without you."

"Now you know why I was so keen to get back out into the field." Soap swallowed, forcing a smile, remembering the awkward conversation that had led to Lara clearing him for duty. He decided that he didn't like that topic either. "So, what's the diagnosis? Am I still fit for duty?"

"Very funny." Lara rolled her eyes. "The cut's pretty deep, but it's clean at least so I'm not going to mess with it. Unless you have any other injuries you're keeping quiet about I'd say that you'll live."

"I'm fine." MacTavish shrugged, taking another sip of his tea and momentarily letting himself speak without check. "We got off lightly considering."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Typically, Lara was straight onto him.

"It doesn't  _mean_ anything, just that it could have been one hell of a lot worse."

"You make it sound as if it could have been one hell of a lot better too." She paused, giving him a searching look that burned with intensity. "What is it that you're not telling me?"

"It's nothing."

"It's  _something_." Her gaze never faltered. "Otherwise it wouldn't be getting to you."

"You're always pushing, aren't you, Bones?" Soap watched as McCoy flinched from his words, her eyes suddenly unable to meet his head on.

"So I've been told, but it's always with the best of intentions." She'd attempted to laugh and shrug it off, but the look on her face didn't fool him for a second. She bit her lip, obviously hesitant as she continued to avoid his gaze. When her eyes finally did return to his they were filled with that same, recognisable determination from before. "So humour me. What's wrong?"

"It's just something stupid."

"These things usually are, in my experience at least." McCoy cocked her head to one side. "Lay it on me. I'm good with stupid."

"It's lucky that someone is." MacTavish muttered thoughtfully. Still weighing up just how much he wanted to reveal, he sipped at his tea to buy himself valuable time to think. "I guess it's guilt mostly."

"Guilt?"

"I stared down an execution today. I was caught by a group of soldiers, all ready to shoot me down no sooner than look at me." Soap didn't even stop to worry about how nonchalantly those words had left his mouth. "I knew that I had Roach as back up, but like anything it could have all gone severely tits up." He sipped at his tea again, his words suddenly feeling uncomfortable within his throat. "Now all I can bloody think about is what if they  _had_  fired? What if I'd  _died_  out there?"

"I can't say that I've ever been in a situation like that." Lara said slowly, obviously taking time over her response. "I've had guns pointed at me, sure." Her brow furrowed as she hesitated. "But you  _didn't_ die out there. You're here, everything went to plan and you all made it out of there alive, right?"

"And next time I might not be so lucky." He shook his head. "And that's what gets me. The sodding guilt of it all."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"When I joined the army, I was just a kid. I thought it'd set me apart from my friends, make me worth something, you know?" Soap didn't wait for an answer. "I never thought about what I might be asked to do, the places I'd go or the things I'd see. I knew that it was dangerous, but back then I thought I was bloody indestructible." He sighed, his head hanging back as he looked upwards towards the ceiling as though it might give him some kind of guidance. "I never once thought about what it'd do to the people who cared about me. My family, my girlfriend, I just figured that they'd have to put up with it and be proud of me."

"So you feel bad for putting them through the worry?"

"It's more than that. Today I could have died. For me it would have been game over, a blank screen. But for my parents? They'd have lost their oldest son, Sara would have lost her big brother." He shook his head. "I never  _knowingly_  set out to destroy my family like that."

"You said so yourself though." Lara replied softly, leaning back further on his desk. "You were just a kid. You didn't do this knowing what it might do to your family."

"Who would?"

" _I_ would." Lara let out a long exhale, running her hand through her hair again, the action clearly more anxious this time. "My dad was in the forces, a rifleman. I grew up not knowing where he was half the time, forced to just sit and watch my mum and grandparents be sick with worry. Then what do I do? Finish up with medical school and join up myself." She let out a soft, almost pitiful laugh. "I knew what I was doing when I signed up for Sandhurst because I'd been through it all myself before. But I was too stubborn not to join up back then and I'm too stubborn to quit now. That  _is_  selfish."

"You must have really wanted this?"

"I did. I  _do_." She rolled her shoulders. "I joined the army for a lot of reasons, not all of them the right ones. I don't think that I'd fit anywhere else. Not anymore at least." McCoy paused, watching him closely. "But that wasn't really my point."

"Then what was?"

"You're looking back on all this like it was a selfish decision. Hindsight can be a wonderful thing, but it can also be a real pain in the arse. Besides..." She gave him a soft smile. "You're forgetting all the selfless parts of being a soldier. We've all made sacrifices to be here, chasing down the rubbish that society shits out."

"And that's enough for you, is it?"

"It has to be. If we didn't all believe in what we're doing here then none of us would be here in the first place, right?" She laughed uneasily. "Sure, there's something about the adrenaline rush of a contact and the pride of knowing that you're well and truly elite, but we both know that this job throws a lot of shit in our direction too."

"You're telling me."

"The point is, you wouldn't have stuck around this long if you didn't think it was worth it."

"I guess you're right there." Soap shrugged. "It's funny. I swear half of the time these conversations you and I have are meant to be the other way around. Isn't the war hardened Captain supposed to be the one who preaches to his squad about all of this bollocks?"

"Maybe, but personally I like to think that these discussions of ours are between two human beings, rather than two ranks." Lara smiled quickly, her cheeks ever so slightly flushed. "And the way I see it, you're the war hardened Captain who's under so much pressure that it's understandable for you to buckle a little sometimes. As for me, I guess I'm just a naïve soldier who still thinks that she can change the world. We see things differently, that's all. I'd be worried if we  _didn't_."

"You talk a lot of sense though."

"To other people,  _sure_. Sadly, I find it damn near impossible to follow my own advice." A discontented sigh left Lara's lips and this time Soap found it impossible to ignore, his eyebrows creasing as he looked at her intently.

"Have I missed something?"

"Sorry?"

"Something seems to be bothering you too." MacTavish worried his bottom lip, unsure as to whether or not he should continue. In the end he decided not to push the topic overly. "If you need to vent then I think it's about time I listened to you for a change."

"I'm fine." McCoy shook her head a little too quickly to be genuine. "Same as always, anyway."

"You're a terrible liar." MacTavish leant forward in his seat, knotting his fingers together across his lap. "I might be famous for over analysing, but I  _know_  you, Bones. At least credit me with realising when something's wrong."

"I suppose." Lara gave him a near hopeless look, pushing off from his desk and edging around it, only speaking when her back was turned. "I guess you could say that I'm feeling guilty too."

"Do you... want to talk about it?" The Captain hesitated. The thought hardly appealed to him but there was no denying his desire to be there for Lara, however unnatural it might feel at the time.

"To be brutally honest?" McCoy let out a strained laugh. "I really  _don't_. I feel like all I've done recently is talk and _think_  about this..." She held her arms out at her sides, the movement small as though her limbs were weighed down with lead. "I appreciate the offer, but this is something that I've got to carry on my own."

"Fair enough." MacTavish nodded, standing slowly from his seat. He maintained eye contact with her, almost waiting for her to change her mind. When she remained silent he gave her a quick smile, although his voice was nothing but serious. "Just don't blame yourself too much. Remember what you told me; hindsight can be a real bitch."

"I told you, me and my own advice don't mix, however enlightened it might be." She might still have been subdued, but at least now there was a little more light in Lara's features, however forced.

"Then let's pretend that was one of my pearls of wisdom, that way you might actually  _listen_  for a change." MacTavish laughed, reaching down for his now cold tea. He threw back the remnants, holding back a shudder as the cold liquid slipped down his throat. Lara followed his lead, either as a feeble attempt to break the tension in the room or because she didn't want to waste any of her prized whisky.

"I should probably go." She nervously cleared her throat. "Maybe an early night will do me good."

"Maybe it would." Soap nodded slowly, a smirk pushing across his face whether he wanted it to or not. "Or maybe you should come back to the rec room with me. We're missing the celebrations as it is."

"I thought you were too tired?"

"I changed my mind. I lock myself in this office too much these days, so I think it's about time I got my arse into gear. What do you say? Shall we both vow to stop being miserable bastards? At least for tonight?"

"I guess we could try." Lara's face brightened again. "That might be one bit of advice I might _actually_ be able to take."

* * *

Six thousand miles away, in a time zone that was eleven hours ahead, an airport in Moscow had become a killing ground. Ironically, out of all of the bullets and blood that had already been shed, a single, final gunshot was to be the most influential of them all.

"That was no message...  _This_  is a message."

The bullet tore through Joseph Allen's chest, causing him to fall back instantly. His body tumbled like a rag doll, the back of his head bouncing off hard concrete. The pain from the blow went unnoticed, lost amongst the searing agony that now burned through the left side of his chest. A sticky wetness began to seep through the back of his shirt and dress jacket, white turning crimson before his eyes as Allen's frantic hands fumbled at his chest.

Alexei Borodin had been a monster, he'd had to have been in order to allow Allen to take part in such a senseless massacre. Borodin was fiercely loyal to his cause and didn't fear the death of himself or of others. But now, none of that mattered. As soon as that bullet had struck, Alexei Borodin has faded back into the phantom that he was, leaving young, naïve and idealistic Joseph Allen bleeding out in his place. And unlike his Russian façade, Joseph Allen was terrified of dying.

His fingers pressed against the wound and Allen let out a sharp hiss, his breath more of a gurgle now at the back of his throat. Around him, masked soldiers yelled and screamed, their voices frighteningly distant even as they ran towards him. In a feeble gesture, Allen reached out with his right hand, although in reality all he could muster was a pathetic twitch of his fingers. One of the soldiers bent down on one knee, gesturing at him wildly and yelling in Russian that Allen didn't even bother listening to. The soldier in black stood quickly and Allen tried to move his hand again, this time his fingers barely even responding. Suddenly it didn't matter who these men were or the fact that they regarded him as a terrorist. All there was was the overwhelming desire to be with someone,  _anyone_ at the end.

He was growing cold now, his limbs numb. Allen felt like all that was left was his core, his arms and legs dead appendages slung off of his body. The only saving grace was that there was no longer any pain, only a horrifying loss of sensation that was steadily moving upwards towards his neck and head.

The soldiers in black had disappeared now, satisfied that he was no longer a threat. Allen attempted to call out to them, to anybody who might hear, but all he was able to manage was a rasping breath that supplied him with little oxygen. He wheezed again, that hideous gurgling sound returning as he struggled, but it was no use, his chest barely even moving despite all his efforts. His vision was blurry and dim, the bright sunshine outside suddenly no longer present. The world around him was fading, draining of colour and light, a blank, dark curtain beginning to fall across his sight. Allen fought to keep his eyes open, only to realise that he no longer knew whether or not they were actually closed.

In life, Joseph Allen had many questions. Why a General like Shepherd had chosen him seemingly over a fast assault course score had baffled him, as had the reasons behind his initial training with Shadow Company rather than with the 141. Throughout his elevation, Allen had chosen to push these thoughts aside, deciding that his questions would be answered soon as they became relevant. Now, with his death Allen had been handed the final piece of the puzzle. The bullet that ended his life so suddenly had been planned from the very beginning, his execution the start of something new, something  _more_. The career soldier who had dreamed of making a difference through his work had managed to accomplish just that.

The ambitious, twenty two year old that Allen had been may have faded away as his blood poured out across the concrete but who he was mattered little to the world's press. In the end it was to be  _what_  he was that would spark the beginnings of a bitter conflict that until then had only been the stuff of nightmares. A war that would see thousands more lose their lives for no just cause, just like Allen and the other victims of the airport massacre before them.

From now on, nothing would ever be the same again...

 


	22. Devil In The Details

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

Back at the 141's base, it was a perfectly average morning.

They'd been running drills, making the most of the cooler mornings before the heat of the day began to set in. As a result, around eleven there always was a steady influx of men heading straight for the showers before filing into the rec room to jam as many carbohydrates down their throats as physically possible.

The only thing that was off was Captain MacTavish's absence. Considering the fact that he was an active member of the team, it was rare not to see him in the rec room with everyone else, laughing while his men jeered and teased each other for their performances earlier in training. To be fair, Lara was oddly enjoying the Captain's absence. The piercing look that Ghost gave her every time he saw her anywhere near Soap had forced her to start avoiding the Captain whenever they were both 'in public'. Oddly, it wasn't the anger in the lieutenant's eyes that unsettled her the most. Rather it was the knowledge that he knew the full extent of her affections for Soap, regardless of the fact that she had never voiced them to anyone, let alone to him. Her own cowardice at leading him on was still the one thing that tore at Lara's heart.

" _Fuck_ , Chris." As usual, Meat's voice was loud enough to shake Lara out of her thoughts. "That's one hell of a shiner." The linguist indicated to Toad's right eye, although the smirk across his features was anything but concerned.

"Want one to match?" The sniper replied grumpily.

"What's the matter? Archer finally get sick of that smart mouth of yours?" Greg seemed hardly perturbed, his eyes flicking over the sniper quickly.

"Like you can talk." Chris scoffed. "And, for the record, he got lucky."

"Lucky?" Archer's gruff tone cut above the group, the older sniper leaning back in his seat at the rec room's large wooden table. He paused for effect, kicking his boots up onto the table top as a small smile played out across his features. "Like I told you, mate, you need to keep your guard up. Could have pummelled that pretty boy face of yours if I'd fancied it."

"Why stop yourself?" Meat laughed. "Things might be a bit quieter 'round here if you did."

"Like hell they would with a little bitch like  _you_  around, Greg." Archer bit back a little too sharply. "'Sides, the kid's gotta learn."

" _Fuck_ _you_." Toad replied grimly, edging around the others so that he could reach the fridge. "You'll see,  _old_ _man_. Now I've got a hell of a grudge."

"Whoa, you can almost  _smell_  the testosterone in here…" With an over exaggerated sigh, Lara sat down at the table beside Archer, tactically as far away from Ghost as she could physically manage. She used the pause in conversation to bite into her sandwich enthusiastically, crumbs spilling out onto her t shirt. "Will someone tell me what's so appealing about you all kicking the shit out of each other every so often?"

"You can only get so much out of throwing punches at a bag, Bones." Archer shrugged.

"Unless we're talking about kicking Meat's ass." Roach interjected, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before continuing. "That's gotta be obvious."

"Well fuck you too, Gary."

"And the fact that you guys just double my workload with your little punch ups means nothing, right?" Lara shook her head.

"You're getting paid." Roach shrugged his shoulders. "Or what, are you honestly going to tell me that paperwork is better than actually patching people up?"

"Call me insane, but 'Cuts and Bruises 101' was never my favourite part of med school." McCoy took another large bite out of her sandwich, almost for emphasis.

"Black eyes and split lips too small time for you, huh?" Meat laughed quickly. "You hear that, guys? Sounds like one of us needs to go and get ourselves shot up next time to keep the medic happy."

There was a small amount of laughter from around the table, but it was nowhere near the level Lara was expecting, especially from one of Meat's so called 'witticisms'. Brushing at her t shirt idly, McCoy looked upwards along with the others, her eyes drawn to the other side of the room where a small group of the other men were gathered around a television set. For once, there was enough quiet for the television broadcast to actually be heard.

_"…A terrorist attack this morning on Zakhaev International Airport has left at least one hundred civilians dead in the wake of one of the most horrific incidents Russia has endured to date. For now, no one group has come forward to take responsibility for the atrocity, but the discovery of an American national amongst the gun men shot at the scene has sent shockwaves through the international community. The man, Joseph Allen, reported to have once served in the US army was discovered dead at the scene along with two known Russian terrorists. At present, little is known of Allen's motives for playing a part in such a large scale massacre, but we have been told that investigations into both Allen and his family have already begun. Barely an hour ago, the White House gave this statement, in which they offered their deepest condolences to anyone affected by the attack and-"_

Lara had stopped listening. As she edged out of her seat and towards the TV with the other men, her eyes were merely fixed on the images flickering across the screen whilst her brain desperately tried to catch up with what she was both seeing and hearing.

"You guys are seeing this too, right?" Rook was the first to speak, although he didn't make any real attempt to tear his eyes from the TV either.

"That's Allen…" Royce spoke next, his voice monotone with disbelief. " _Our_  Allen. I thought he was fucking reassigned…"

"He was." Ghost's voice cut through the tension with steady authority as he straightened up, the first to do anything but look at the screen. He shook his head. " _Shit_ …"

"Am I the only one not getting this?" Meat practically spat. "Allen's a goddamn terrorist now?"

"Screw your head on straight, mate." Archer rolled his eyes. "The kid might have been a twat, but he wasn't a fucking nut job."

"Try telling that to Moscow." Royce interrupted. "'Cos right how he's one hell of a smoking gun." He rested a hand on the back of his head, his fingers rubbing at an invisible tension spot. "An American supported an attack on one of their airports?  _Zakhaev_ _'_ _s_  airport no less? You don't have to be a genius to see where this is going."

"The Russians ain't gonna let this massacre go unanswered. It's gonna get bloody." Ghost agreed.

"And that's all Vorshevsky needs." Archer replied thoughtfully, his voice dragging out over the words as though he was thinking them over as he said them. "Now he's got license to go after the Yanks with everything he's got."

"Do you think he will?" Rook remained sceptical.

"I'm not sure he has the balls." The older sniper shrugged. "But if he's been waiting for his chance then let's just say that he's damn well got it."

"And that right there is our bloody problem." A new voice in the room caused everyone to jump, McCoy looking over her shoulder instantly. Stood in the doorway of the rec room was MacTavish, his arm leaning against the door as though it was the only thing supporting his weary frame. He gave them all a weak nod, before stepping further into the room towards them. He was still dressed in his training gear, his tight grey t shirt darkened underneath his arms and around the base of his neck from sweat. "You've all heard, then?"

"No thanks to you." Ghost answered bitterly. "Where the fuck have you been?"

"Where does it look like I've been?" MacTavish raised an angered eyebrow. "Shepherd yanked my arse straight out of training and into a debrief with him and his little lap dog, Trojan." He paused, rolling his tongue across his teeth. "As I'm pretty sure you've noticed, mate, we're on the cusp of a political shitstorm here."

"I assume your debrief came with orders then,  _sir_?" There was no denying the terse, yet professional quality to Riley's tone.

"To a point." MacTavish shrugged back in his seat, one of his hands moving up to rub at the bridge of his nose. "We have a team briefing in four hours. Make sure you're all in the Ops room on time otherwise Shepherd's going to want my arse." He paused, his eyes working their way across the room and making brief eye contact with every one of his men. Before speaking again, the Captain let out a soft, almost exasperated sigh. "A lot of people died today and one of them had 141 written right across his file. You might not have liked the guy, but Allen's dead and one way or another that pulls us all into the picture." He paused, his eyes flickering back to Ghost in particular. "I don't think I need to tell you that we're going to be the ones who are asked to put all of this shit right. Am I understood?"

"Loud and clear, sir."

"Good." MacTavish nodded abruptly. "Now get back to whatever the hell you were doing. And someone shut that bloody TV off. We're going to hear about any new developments a long time before they do."

Gradually, noise returned to the rec room, although this time it was hushed, almost stunted. After finishing their food, some of the men filtered out, Ghost and Archer the most noticeable as they left together, whispering some seemingly heated conversation that McCoy had no chance of being able to make out. The other men chose to hang around, Meat and Royce throwing the odd, half hearted joke around the room that was met with only polite laughter. The atmosphere was too heavy to be lifted by the occasional light hearted quip. Somehow, the men were all too lost amongst themselves to really try and interact with each other. After all, the combination of news of such a nonsensical massacre and the impending dread of a new, vitally important mission had filled every one of them with an overwhelming feeling of sobriety.

"You ok?" McCoy hadn't realised that she was staring into space until she felt a hand on her shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. She looked to her right where Gary had sat down on the sofa beside her.

"I'm fine." She shrugged on instinct, throwing the sergeant a quick smile for good measure.

"Sure you are. You were trapped in your own little world there, Bones. I'm not an idiot."

"You're not." Lara shook her head softly. "But I'm ok, I promise you. I'm just feeling a little… shaken up." She paused, worrying her lip. "The power of human empathy I guess. I mean I've seen the results of terrorism. Working in those fucking field hospitals you see it every bloody week." She hesitated. "But what happened today? On that kind of scale? I can't even  _begin_  to comprehend it and that's scary as  _hell_."

"You're telling me." Roach shrugged in agreement. He hung his head to one side, watching her closely. "How do you feel about Allen?"

" _Guilty._ " Bones didn't even need to think about her answer. "And don't ask me why. I barely even knew the guy and I know that he wasn't the most likeable man in the world. I guess he was just the kind of bloke who wanted to get ahead and make something of himself. But he was  _22_  years old. He was too young to go out like that."

"Aren't we all?"

"I guess. But I still feel like I should have done things differently. At least made more of an effort with him when he was here."

"You made more of an effort than the rest of us, Bones." Roach sighed. "But even if you'd have been the closest damn friends in the world, he'd have still ended up going out like that. This is bigger than us. Hell, maybe it's even bigger than Shepherd."

"Do you think that it was his op? The one that got Allen killed I mean?"

"I don't know. Intel can go two ways, Bones, you know that. Chances are Allen was on the losing end of some shitty information." Gary shrugged. "One thing I do know though? He's a lot of things, sure, but the Shepherd I know doesn't just throw men away. I doubt Allen was the exception."

"You're right." McCoy nodded, a weak smile playing out across her features. She turned her face away from Roach, laughing anxiously as though she was apologising for herself. "I'm sorry. I don't know where my head's at right now."

"And that's a new thing?" Gary smirked, giving her a quick nudge in the ribs with his elbow. "But if it helps, there's probably not a guy in this task force who isn't feeling the same as you right about now. They might not say anything about it, but that doesn't mean that they aren't thinking it." He indicated over McCoy's shoulder to where MacTavish was stood, his hands fumbling around for the cigarettes in his pockets. "The Captain's feeling it for sure."

"He barely even knew Allen."

"Yeah, but just like you he's got a guilt complex heavy enough to sink a ship."

"I'm not that bad.  _Yet_ , anyway." Lara shook her head, glancing over just in time to see MacTavish leave the room. She waited a moment, padding out the gap with thoughtful silence. "I'm going to head back to the Infirmary though, change into something a bit more presentable for this briefing."

"And bump into MacTavish on the way, right?" Roach laughed when she gave him an indignant look. "Come on, Bones. I wasn't born yesterday."

"Yeah, well... he opens up to me. Sometimes anyway." She shrugged. "It's not even like that. I just want to check that he's alright."

"Hey, I get it, ok?" Roach lifted up his hands defensively. "I wasn't picking faults, McCoy."

"I know." Bones replied, defeated. She gave him another smile, desperate to atone for her knee jerk response. "Thanks, Gary. Really."

"No problem."

To be fair, as she moved to leave the rec room, Lara felt more than a little embarrassed. She'd never outwardly voiced her feelings about anything and yet somehow her best friend was astute enough to surprise her still. Then again she'd spent so much time with the sergeant over the last few months that she shouldn't really have been surprised that Roach was able to read her like a book. It was a quality that she wasn't quite used to, the only other two people able to do the same being her brother, and Richards, the two roles that Gary had somehow unwittingly managed to fill within the 141.

Her mind focused on other things, Lara stepped out of the rec room quickly, determined to catch up to MacTavish in case he chose to take a walk around the base. In her mind she was already busy playing out what she should say to him, her brain too preoccupied for her to really concentrate on where she was going. That was until she ran into a firm, yet obviously human wall.

"Fucking invisible, am I?" Lara knew who it was before they even spoke, the thick, cockney accent serving to only accentuate the heavy twist of her stomach as it lurched with shock. Swallowing hard, McCoy looked upwards, meeting Riley's eye and holding his gaze for what felt like an age whilst she tried to find something suitable to say. Her brain came up with very little.

"I wasn't paying attention." She'd hoped for her voice to come off as indifferent, but somehow the words came out far more bitter than she had intended.

"Nothing new there." Riley spat, his face twisted into something that was practically a grimace. "Captain's outside. I assume that's where you're headed." He didn't exactly wait for a response, moving to step around her as soon as the words had left his mouth.

In a split second, Lara was presented with a choice. On the one hand, there was the far healthier option of allowing Ghost to side step her as she had so many times before. And then, there was the option of actually stopping him and having a strong enough backbone with which to confront him. Strangely, the choice wasn't as difficult as she might have first thought.

"... Riley." Without any further thought, Lara stepped to her right just in time to stop Ghost in his tracks, his body screeching to a halt before they could come into any kind of contact, his expression a strange concoction of confusion and irritation. "We can't keep doing this."

" _We_  aren't doing anything." The lieutenant retorted quickly.

"Oh yeah? We're avoiding each other, Simon, and you fucking know it as well as I do."

"You want to be best friends then, is that it,  _love_?" He scoffed. "Like hell that's going to happen."

"Did I say that? What I want is a little understanding."

"And so you're doing this here? Fucking typical."

" _Shit._ _"_ Suddenly realising just how close they were to the rec room door, Lara grabbed Riley's arm without thinking, pulling him backwards with her down the nearest corridor, where the barracks split into two hallways just after the main doors. Along the way, Ghost wrenched himself away from her, and yet he still followed, the two of them only stopping when they were satisfied that they were as alone as physically possible. Again, Lara was the first to speak. "I'm serious here, Riley. We can't sodding go on like this and you know it as much as I do."

"So you want some understanding, right?" Ghost laughed. "And just what exactly do you want me to  _understand_?"

"That wasn't what I meant. If you think that I don't deserve anymore of your time then there's nothing I can do about that. But I need to know that we can at least coexist professionally."

"You're accusing me of not being professional here?" Riley's voice was little more than an angered hiss.

"Stop ramming words down my neck. You know that wasn't what I was saying."

"Then what, you're so self important now that you think this is going to change how I do my job?" He sniggered darkly. "I told you a long time ago; I don't give a shit what bollocks happens in this barracks. Out on ops, I'll watch your arse because I have to. It's as simple as that." He rolled his eyes, taking a step back from her like she was poison. "If you want anymore than that then you're barking up the wrong tree, Bones."

"I didn't expect anything less."

"Then we have nothing more to discuss. Ever." Riley was already taking another step backwards, his back turning on her as he moved. Lara toyed with the idea of letting him leave then and there, although a flurry of words were already hastily pushing their way up her throat.

" _Simon_..." As soon as his name escaped her lips, she knew that it was a mistake, but she had no way of stopping herself now. She watched as he turned to look at her again, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest with anticipation. "... I should never have said what I did. About what happened between us being an accident. I was being cruel... I didn't stop to think about what I was even saying." Her mouth was in freefall now whether she liked it or not. "But you  _weren't_  a mistake. It was me; I fucked it all up by letting shit get so out of hand. I never meant for any of this. If I'd seen it coming then I swear I'd have stopped myself that first night..." She naturally tailed off, her eyes searching Riley's for any kind of reaction to her words. She found none, but the disgusted look on his face seemed to lessen slightly. "... I'm sorry. If you don't believe anything else I say, then just believe that. Please."

"Yeah..." For a split second Lara was convinced that she saw a flicker of acceptance or at the very least recognition of what she had said reflected in Riley's eyes, but it was gone so quickly that she half thought that she'd been imagining it. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes burning into hers during the short silence. "Well, whatever. None of that shit even matters. Just do your job and let me do mine."

It might not have been the subtlest thing to do, but once Ghost had left Lara found herself leaning backwards, her body jolting as her back hit against the wall. She hunched her shoulders and let out a heavy sigh, her head automatically hanging from the action. Despite her best intentions, their exchange had left her feeling bitter and confused, her thoughts suddenly a muddy jumble in her head. She had no idea how their exchange should have gone, but she was pretty sure that it could have gone one hell of a lot  _better._

* * *

"McCoy..." She smelt tobacco first, followed only by the distant warmth of smoke in the air. Clearly shaken, Lara glanced to her right where MacTavish was stood just outside the barracks entrance. The stub of a cigarette jutted out from the fingers of his right hand, the lit end smouldering orange. He pushed off from the wall as soon as he met her gaze, a weak smile that she almost let herself believe was because of her playing out across his lips. "I had a feeling you'd follow me out here."

" _Sir_..." She wasn't sure why, but suddenly talking to MacTavish felt wrong, almost as though it was disrespectful after such a tense confrontation with Ghost. Wholly aware of how cold she seemed, Lara gave the Captain a quick, almost dismissive nod. "... I was actually heading for the Infirmary." She tailed off as soon as she realised that she didn't have a genuine reason as to why.

"I see." Soap shrugged, his features passive, the smile lost. He eyed her up a second longer before falling back against the wall, his shoulders hunching as he took the last, lingering drag from his cigarette. "I suppose I'll see you in the ops room later then."

McCoy turned on her heel, more to hide any guilt that might have sprung out across her features rather than out of an actual need to get away from him. She bit down on her lip, silently cursing herself as she strode away as quickly as she could, the foot falls of her heavy boots hard against the tarmac quad. The Infirmary loomed in front of her, offering itself up to be a safe haven in an otherwise confusing storm.

"Lara?" This time her name was more of a question and less of a statement, yet it still managed to startle her all the same. Instantly, Bones froze, her entire body tensing in anticipation. She genuinely hadn't expected MacTavish to follow her, and yet as soon as she heard his voice she knew that she should have known better. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She knew that she sounded ridiculous the second the word left her mouth, but that did nothing to stop her from continuing. "I'm fine."

"Like hell you are. Credit me with a bit of intelligence here, McCoy." MacTavish's voice was stronger than Lara expected, his words snapping at her. He paused as she reached to open the Infirmary doors, moving forward and holding them open so that he could follow her inside. When he spoke again, his tone was softer, although its previous urgency was still present. "If it's just to do with Allen then fine, I won't pry if you don't want me to." He lowered his voice for the next part, leaning against the wall by the door that lead to her quarters, his tone hushed and wary. "But I like to tell myself that I know you, Bones. I also like to tell myself you'd never just blow me off like that for  _nothing_."

She'd hardly put up much of a fight, but McCoy found herself giving in, sighing as she held the door to her room open for MacTavish, a silent gesture that they should continue the discussion in private. She hung back, allowing him to enter the room and then following quickly, being sure to snap the door shut behind them.

It was only when MacTavish was stood in the centre of her bedroom that Lara found herself being hit by a strange feeling of deja vu. The last time he'd been anywhere near her room had been the day Soap had found out about Ghost, the four walls playing host to the most heated conversation they had shared to date. It had been the first time she had ever attempted to tell him how she felt, the first time she had ever really felt the bitter sting of wanting something that was never going to happen. She could still remember the anger in his eyes, the tension in his bunched fists and the distinct hurt within his voice...

She didn't know if Soap was as aware of this fact as she was, but the Captain still managed to look strangely uncomfortable as he glanced around the room, his face thoughtful all the while. McCoy wasn't quite sure what he was looking for, but she realised sooner rather than later that it was high time she interrupted the awkward silence that had engulfed the room around them.

"I wasn't blowing you off." She shrugged quickly, her hands dangling by her sides. "For what it's worth."

"Ok." MacTavish nodded softly. "So what was that?"

"That was me acting like a total cock." Lara sighed, throwing in a nervous laugh that didn't really sound as convincing as she'd hoped it would. "I just don't know what I'm feeling right now... that's all."

"Because of Allen?"

"Allen, what happened in Moscow... this ominous as shit briefing..." She shook her head. "It should have put all of this less important bollocks into perspective."

"Should is a dangerous word, McCoy." Soap commented indifferently, taking a few steps backwards so that he could sit down on her bed. The soft creak of her bed springs served only to highlight just how quiet the room had become. "I should have pushed Shepherd to send someone else in Allen's place, then things might have been different." He let out a heavy sigh at Lara's more than obvious exasperation. "And yeah, I know you're about to tell me that its not my fault, but I think you know me well enough to know that I'm going to think it anyway."

"You're far too predictable." McCoy smiled, sitting down next to him. They were close enough that their upper arms brushed together, but neither of them made any attempt to move away.

"It's not always a bad thing."

"No, it isn't. Believe me, I could do with a little more predictable in my life."

"Oh yeah?" MacTavish raised a scarred eyebrow. "Is this the less important bollocks you were talking about?"

"You don't miss a trick, do you?"

"Comes with the job I'm afraid." Soap smiled. "I can read people a lot better than they give me credit for."

"Prove it." Lara nudged him gently in the arm with her elbow.

"I can. It just depends on how honest you want me to be."

"You can be as honest as you like."

"And you might regret that." MacTavish smirked in return, although his voice possessed a hesitant, almost unsure quality. He leant forwards slightly, obviously stalling as he rubbed his right hand across the back of his neck. "Look, I'm not stupid, Bones. And god knows we've argued enough about it being none of my business. But just how long are you expecting me to go on pretending that I haven't noticed whatever shit is going on between you and Riley?" He laughed awkwardly. "Because it's really bloody obvious, Lara.  _Believe_ _me._ "

" _Shit_..." She spoke out on an exhale, the word leaving her mouth soft and hushed. McCoy lifted a hand, beginning to smooth out the non existent bits of hair that had fallen from her ponytail in an attempt to occupy herself. "Does everyone know?"

"I don't know, chances are a lot of them don't care either way. But Riley's my best mate, and you're..." He tailed off, shaking his head. "I don't want details, don't go thinking that that's what this is about. But I-"

"But you need to know that we can work together." Lara interrupted, a second, stronger sense of deja vu hitting her in the stomach. She tried her hardest to push it aside. "We're professionals. We might not have acted like it in the past, but you can trust me on this one at least."

"That wasn't what I was going to say." Soap finally caught McCoy's gaze and held it intently. "Despite what I might have said in the past, I never really doubted your professionalism. I've known Riley a long time, I know that he's a good soldier first and foremost. I didn't like it sure, but that didn't mean that I could be so hard on you. "

"Then what are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say that I can see what you're doing to yourself here. I could see it last night too, but you seemed so determined not to talk about it that I left it be."

"I'm pretty sure what I said last night still applies. There's nothing left to talk about, even if I wanted to."

"So you need to let it go." MacTavish stated bluntly. "If there is really that little left to it."

"Isn't that the easy way out? Just to go on letting him hate me? I've never been any good at leaving things alone."

"I've noticed." He gave her a quick smirk, the action serving to ease the tension in the room, if only for a couple of seconds. "But for what it's worth, Riley doesn't hate you. He never has and from what I've seen he certainly hasn't started now."

"He can't even stand to be around me."

"And the only reason for that is the fact that he hates you, right?" MacTavish shook his head. "Come on, Bones. Give him some credit, here. Riley isn't that shallow and he never will be."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he's loyal and just deeper than that. I've known him a good five years and he's never given me any reason to suspect otherwise." He shrugged. "I trusted him to watch my arse on ops even when all this shit was happening and he didn't let me down. Not only that, but he stuck his neck out for me when I made a wrong call and took the fall for it. I'm man enough to admit that if it had all been the other way around, I probably wouldn't have done the same thing."

"But it's different with you. Like you said, you've known each other for years. Me and Riley, we've only..." Her next sentence suddenly seeming horribly out of place, Lara quickly changed tack. "It's been a couple of months,  _max_."

"Out here, you'd be surprised by how it's all intensified. But that's not my point. All I'm saying is that I can  _see_ what you're doing, Bones. You're blaming yourself for an impossible situation."

"One  _I_ created."

"Last I checked that makes no difference now. Unless you've perfected the art of time travel or something?"

"Very funny." Lara rolled her eyes. "But seriously, you're saying that I should just step back from all of this?"

"Isn't that what you've been telling me all this time? Besides, is what you're doing now really helping anything? Helping Riley?" MacTavish sighed. "If it is, then I don't see it at least."

"I guess you're right."

"It happens every so often, but don't worry, I'm not about to start making a habit of it." Soap smirked, although somehow the action seemed muted and lacking in any real sense of sincerity. He seemed to recognise the tension in the room too as he avoided Lara's gaze, taking in a deep, almost hesitant breath before speaking again. "Just try and stop blaming yourself, Lara, if only for a few days. It's bloody distracting."

"John..." There was a softness in his words that caught her off guard and McCoy reacted instantly, her mind struggling to find the words she needed to better express herself. "All this talk about loyalty and I've never really shown any from the start."

"How do you mean?"

"Like you said... Riley is your best mate. I should never have-" She was too embarrassed to spell it out further, even though she was well aware that she didn't really need to. "I'm just...  _sorry_  I guess."

"I told you to move on and you moved on. What's there to apologise for?"

"Is that honestly what you think? That I just forgot all about you?"

"It's logical."

"It's  _bollocks_!" Lara let out an exasperated laugh. "You know me better than that, John."

"I just assumed. It wasn't like I was doubting you."

"Well you're wrong either way." Her left hand moved out on instinct for his right forearm. "You mean a lot to me, ok?"

" _Lara..._ " Her hand had been against his skin for a split second before Soap pulled away, standing up quickly in a desperate attempt to put some more distance between them. He straightened up, his right hand back to resting anxiously on the back of his neck. "Don't  _do_  this."

"What the hell, John?"

"We can't talk like this. You  _know_  that."

"We're just talking..." Lara gave him an indignant look. "Or what? Do you think I'm as shallow as everyone else does? Shallow enough to try again with you just because Riley is out of the picture?"

"No one thinks that and that  _wasn't_  what I said."

"Oh yeah? Because it damn well sounded like it to me." Lara sighed, her hand rubbing across her mouth in an idle attempt to buy herself some time to calm down. "I don't expect anything from you, least of all for anything between us to change. What happened between me and Riley had nothing to do with that."

"Except it does, Bones. Ghost only complicates things further."

"What?"

"I told you... Riley's my friend. My best friend. What the hell am I supposed to do? Pretend that I didn't know about the two of you?" The Captain let out a dark laugh. "He deserves more loyalty than that."

"And I'm never going to be able to take what happened between him and me back, just like you're never going to be able to let go of your command." She stood up slowly, meeting Soap's eye. "We're trapped in some kind of stalemate. I get it."

"Come on, Bones. Don't be like this. Do you really think that this is so bloody easy for me? Last I checked I was the one listening in on all the base jokes about you and Riley." He gave her a dark look. "Just don't make yourself out to be the only injured party here, ok?" He took in a deep breath, his shoulders heaving as a result, shaking his head as he spoke. "Listen to us. Fighting like cat and bloody dog at a time when we need to be sticking together. If we needed any evidence why we would never work, this has got to be it."

"Maybe, but at least we'd have  _tried_."

"Sometimes I think it's just better not to." His tongue moistening his lips, MacTavish cleared his throat, moving towards Lara's door in the process. "I'll see you at the briefing, McCoy."

She made sure that Soap was out of the room before she allowed herself to show any emotion, her bedroom door shutting heavily in the silence. Frustrated, she clenched her hands, biting down hard on her lip to suppress an angered yell. Instead, Lara found herself lashing out, her right hand hitting out against the nearest object, in this case her wardrobe. Her fingers tingling with hot pin pricks from the action, McCoy nursed her throbbing right hand with her left, cradling it tightly to her chest.

The fact that she loved MacTavish was something that Lara had accepted long ago, despite how frightening the thought might have been. That in itself, McCoy could handle. It was the frustration that nothing short of a miracle would force them together, that was the hardest thing to stomach.

* * *

Four hours later, somewhere amongst a small, claustrophobic room that constantly smelt of musty upholstery and cigar smoke, the 141 were attempting to gather their resources.

If she hadn't known it was serious already, Lara would have known the instant she'd stepped into the ops room. The grave, almost stoic look on Shepherd's face was enough to scare her shitless, and as they all filed into the room, Lara subconsciously made sure that she was on the other side of the table to the General, squashed in between Roach and Ozone. All the while, the room remained oddly silent; the only noise the rustle of combat trousers and the creak of plastic and metal chairs.

Although General Shepherd headed a great deal of briefings, seeing him brought with it an altogether more sombre atmosphere. Combined with the stern look of the man stood behind the General, Lara felt as though the air within the ops room was so thick that it could have been cut with a knife.

She recognised the man instantly, although during her brief time with the 141 Lara hadn't had much to do with him. On the base he went by the call sign Trojan, but much later in the rec room she'd learnt that his real name was Kevin Jones, a Welshman who had once worked with MI5 before being head hunted into Shepherd's Shadow Company. He'd been the one to collect her when she'd flown in from Afghanistan, and Lara had quickly learnt that he was a quiet, yet relentlessly driven character. He possessed a dark eyed, determined stare that managed to unsettle a good few men in the task force despite his relatively short stature next to them. Not that Trojan lacked the physicality of the other men, his body broad and muscular, a trait only accentuated by his average height. She guessed that he had built up his body deliberately, as his status as a 'spook' in the eyes of the task force didn't exactly do him any favours in terms of earning their respect.

Either way, Lara wasn't exactly comforted by the sombre look on Trojan's face.

"Gentlemen..." The General began as soon as everyone was seated, his voice as low and authoritative as it always managed to be. "I think you can all appreciate why we're here." He knotted his hands across the table, his gaze moving across them all in one long sweep. "The world's steadily going to shit and we're the only people who know why."

"With respect, sir, we don't even know that." No one was surprised that Ghost was the first to speak, Archer nodding in agreement along with him. "All we know is that Allen was reassigned and somehow ended up in Moscow."

"Allen's actions are on a strictly need to know basis, lieutenant."

"And our circumstances just changed." Soap interjected. "I agree with Riley here, sir. My men need to understand what is going on before we can work out what to do next."

"Classified intel is still classified intel, whatever the politics." Trojan answered bluntly.

"But maybe MacTavish is right, the rules we're playing by  _have_  changed, for now at least." Shepherd nodded to Trojan slowly. "Tell them what they need to know."

"Yes, sir." The irritated look in Trojan's eyes was almost perfectly masked, but he stepped forward dutifully, his tone cold and clinical. "Three weeks ago, Joseph Allen was reassigned to a CIA lead deep cover operation, posing as an Ultranationalist called Alexei Borodin. The main objective was for Allen to eventually integrate himself into Vladimir Makarov's inner circle. During this period, Makarov selected Allen for the attack on Zakhaev International airport. We don't know how or when but sometime within those three weeks, Makarov received intelligence informing him of Allen's true identity. As a result, Allen took part in the attack, only to be executed at the end of the raid, at roughly 8.05am local time."

"Makarov was one move ahead." Shepherd interrupted. "He knew about Allen long enough to plan his death and use it to his advantage. Now, he's left thousands of bodies at the feet an American. I don't think I need to highlight the political implications this might have."

"So we need to move fast." Soap nodded. "Expose Makarov before the Russian's start clubbing every American that they can reach."

"We need to find him first." Archer added thoughtfully. "What intel did Allen manage to recover?"

"Nothing that we can use right now. Makarov knows his place on the wanted list. He's done the smart thing and gone to ground." Shepherd shook his head. "If we need to find him, we need to think outside the box."

"Meaning, sir?"

"Makarov engineered the entire attack to look as though it had CIA support. His men were loaded up with American rifles and equipment, anything to implicate them in the attack." Shepherd paused, pushing forwards an open dossier filled with diagrams, equations and technical drawings to MacTavish. "Luckily for us, Makarov underestimated our methods."

"Sir?"

"We follow the shell. We might not know where Makarov is, but we can sure as hell find the son of a bitch who supplied him." He slid another folder out across the table, a black and white picture of a man in the top right hand corner of the file. "Alejandro Rojas."

"Never heard of him, sir." Soap replied quickly.

"You know him as Alex the Red." The General continued. "He's currently operating out of Rio de Janeiro. We can be pretty damn sure that he's the one who supplied Makarov's op."

"And how sure is that?" Royce asked.

"We have confirmation from two different sources." Trojan was indifferent. "That's enough for us to send you in."

"Your aim is simple. You acquire Rojas alive and interrogate him for Makarov's whereabouts. I'm keeping the operation off the records so that you can use whatever means necessary to get the intel we need. It is imperative that we find Makarov before he can strike again."

"Understood, sir." Soap nodded slowly. "If Rojas is the loose end we need, we'll get him."

"Good. You have 36 hours before I send you in." Shepherd nodded abruptly, standing up from the table. "And remember, there's a lot riding on this, gentlemen. I just hope you all understand what is at stake here."

* * *

Six hours of lateral thinking later, the task force finally emerged from the isolating cocoon that was the ops room.

If there was one thing that Lara still had trouble coming to terms with within her new role in the 141, it was the process of preparing for an operation. Even with her Sandhurst training, the honest truth was that Lara just hadn't managed to rack up the years of combat experience that some of the other men had during their time in the military, something that resulted in her feeling like little more than a spare part during there time within the ops room. That being said, it was a feeling that she suspected she shared with a lot of the other, younger members of the task force. After all, it was common knowledge that any man could voice his opinion when ever they disagreed with a particular tactic or stratagem, but it was common  _sense_  to realise that Soap, Ghost and Archer should be the driving forces when it came to planning operations outright.

Either way, there was no denying the fact that as she left the ops room, Lara felt more exhausted then she had after that morning's training.

They all instinctively shuffled back towards the rec room, the majority of them headed for the kitchen, aside from Archer who instinctively lit up a cigarette and then threw what remained of the packet in Toad's direction, hanging back and hovering in the doorway out of a strange kind of consideration to the others. Some of the men, most notably Royce and Scarecrow, headed straight for the fridge, pulling out bottles of beer and unscrewing the caps quickly. No one was about to get drunk barely 24 hours before an operation, and yet at the same time everyone recognised the need to blow off steam after a particularly long session in the ops room.

Ozone had made the most of the situation and gained rare control of the rec room's music system, inoffensive soft rock playing out at a low volume that at the very least prevented the air around them from dropping into an uneasy silence. The rest of the room was dominated with quiet conversations as the group split off into small clusters.

"Hey, can I get hold of one of those?" Lara smiled, standing beside Royce and Scarecrow by the fridge, waiting for them to move aside so that she could reach for her own beer. She waved it in front of them both as she nudged the door shut with her hip. "It's been one of those days, right?"

"You're telling me." Scarecrow laughed, knocking his bottle against hers with a satisfying 'clunk'.

"We've seen worse." Royce took a nonchalant pull of his beer. "If you ask me it's the waiting that's the worst part."

"And you would say that, mate." Scarecrow smirked to Lara, jerking his head in Royce's direction. "Soft fucker just wants to piss off home."

"Don't we all?" Royce shook his head. "Hell yeah, I do. It's taken me weeks to get this extended leave from Shepherd, but I swore to Karen that I'd be back in time."

"In time for what?" Lara raised her eyebrow inquisitively, taking a small sip of her own beer in the process.

"She's pregnant." Royce shrugged, a smile breaking out across his features. His body language oozed of a man who was trying to act indifferent and was failing miserably.

"Shit, mate! You kept that one sodding quiet!" Lara wasn't sure what the right response was as she grinned at him, so she chose an affectionate punch to the arm.

"Yeah, well we've had problems before. I didn't want to jinx it, I guess."

"If you ask me, the thought of a mini you is shit scaring enough." Scarecrow smirked. "I guess you'll know it's yours when it comes out with a bloody goatee..."

"Fuck you, man."

"Well I'm happy for you, no matter what this twat says." Lara laughed playfully, shrugging off Scarecrow's look of mock offence. She caught Royce's gaze and gave him a polite nod, before stepping aside as Meat joined them by the fridge, reaching for a beer of his own. Feeling as though she had outstayed her welcome, Lara withdrew, her eyes skimming the room for Roach and Ozone.

She found them over by the pool table, not playing but instead leaning against it, their arms crossed as they compared notes about the band whose song was currently leaking out from the stereo speakers. Lara was only familiar with the band herself, but she made an effort to join in, standing beside Gary so that they were just in touching distance. She wasn't sure why, but the comforting warmth and close proximity of her friend was something that McCoy felt as though she needed more than usual.

Staring over the top of her beer bottle, Lara caught sight of a distant pair of blue eyes watching her. She wasn't sure if she instigated the eye contact first or not, but it was most certainly there by the time she noticed it. Soap might have been stood on the other side of the room, blatantly breaking his own rule of never smoking in the rec room with Archer, but he was most certainly staring straight at her. The action wasn't harsh or angry like she expected, but there was certainly a piercing quality to his stare that had Lara wondering whether or not she should look away. Ultimately, Lara decided that she had spent too much time already giving Soap ground.

It must have only lasted a couple of seconds, but the longer they looked at each other, the softer Soap's eyes seemed to become. In a slight, yet noticeable way, he slowly nodded his head, the corners of his mouth turning up into the beginnings of a smile. Lara understood the gesture immediately, recognising that this was as close to an apology for their actions that morning as they were likely to get. Holding his gaze a second longer, Bones returned the smile with one of her own, even though she was only being half sincere in its meaning. Although she was willing to readily apologise for what she had said, McCoy knew that she would never apologise for how she felt.

After all, she'd spent too much time doing that too.

* * *

The mid afternoon heat was already beginning to feel unbearable.

For the last two days, time had either passed ridiculously quickly or horrendously slowly. The time spent preparing for their operation felt as though it had flown by, all frenzied and hectic and out of control. But as soon as they'd touched down on Brazilian soil, time had practically come to a standstill. Suddenly it was all about waiting for intel, for a lead that would lead them right to Rojas. For a small team of the task force, headed by Archer and Toad, this meant staking out certain districts of the city for reconnaissance, but for the rest of the squad, it simply meant a painful wait until the intel actually  _arrived._

For Lara, that had meant sitting in an ancient black coupé in the outskirts of Rio for what felt like an age.

Sighing, McCoy shifted in her seat, the movement only serving to draw attention to the fact that her combat trousers were now stuck to her legs with sweat. She altered the position of her SA80 between her legs, the butt of the rifle sitting in the foot well, moving it in a way that allowed her to stretch out her left leg, her knee stiff from sitting for so long. Propping her right elbow out of the car window so that she could rest on her hand, Lara glanced outside, silently pleading for a breath of fresh air. What she got instead was simply another wave of stifling heat, coupled with a pungent aroma of burnt tyres and cigarette smoke.

In the front seat of the car was Driver, a Shadow Company operative on loan to the task force. On his head was a grubby looking green baseball cap whilst yellow tinted sunglasses protected his eyes from the glare. He was tapping idly at the steering wheel of the car to the soft guitar chords escaping the car's ancient radio, his gloves lying haphazardly on the dashboard. Ordinarily, Bones would have felt the need to talk to him, but somehow the sapping heat seemed to have convinced them both that a comfortable silence was far more preferable.

Outside, Soap and Roach were standing guard. They were both stood by a nearby building in whatever shade they could find, their side arms visible whilst their rifles remained hidden within the car. They were both smoking, something that repulsed Lara more than usual with the heat. She hadn't been keeping count of just how many cigarettes they'd consumed, but the multitude of cigarette butts lying in the dust at their feet told her enough.

" _Hotel_ _Six,_ _do_ _you_ _read_ _me?_ _"_ The sound crackled across all of their comms, causing Lara to instantly sit up and pay attention. Driver obviously heard it too as he moved to turn down the volume on the radio, his left hand cradling the comms unit in his ear.  _"_ _Hotel_ _six?_ _"_

"I hear you, Archer. What have you got for me?" MacTavish replied urgently, already moving back towards the car with Roach.

" _Local militia. Three blokes just loaded up into a white van, looks like they're headed straight for Rojas' part of town. Toad has a visual now, registration KMF 5489. I repeat, KMF 5489. They should move past your position in less than two minutes, over."_

"Copy that, mate." Soap and Roach climbed into the car with a renewed sense of urgency whilst Driver hastily pulled on his gloves and put the car into gear. From his position beside her in the back seat, MacTavish gave Lara a quick nod, still speaking into his radio. "Keep eyes on for as long as possible, let me know if they turn back."

" _Yes,_ _sir._ _"_ The comms fell back into silence.

"Looks like this is the lead we've been waiting for." MacTavish said quickly, adjusting himself in his seat so that his rifle was still hidden, yet at hand. He reached forward, tapping Driver's shoulder quickly. "Make sure you give them plenty of breathing room."

"Understood, sir."

"Ok…" MacTavish risked a glance backwards, just in time to see the white van move past them slowly. For a good few seconds, they remained stationary whilst the van got some distance, before Driver slowly accelerated and the car lurched forwards. Cocking his head to one side so that he could see through the windscreen, MacTavish took another, almost apprehensive deep breath inwards. "Looks like the plates match... Let's make sure we get our guy."

 


	23. Born To Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

**Rio de Janeiro, Brazil**

**15:08:18**

"Ghost, maintain your position, he's leading us straight to you, over." Soap spoke softly, ducking behind Driver's seat. They turned another sharp corner, regaining their position behind the white van.

" _Copy. Any sign of Rojas or his right hand man?"_ Ghost's voice was impatient over the radio.

"Negative. They've stopped twice already. No sign of him."

"Looks like they're just as clueless as we are." Roach commented bitterly.

"Easy, mate." MacTavish warned. He straightened up in his seat, craning his neck to the side to look out through the windscreen in between Driver and Roach. "Wait. They've stopped again. Standby."

In front, the van had slowed to a standstill, pulling over onto the right hand side of the road. Two men stepped out and headed for the nearby building, their hands poised over their AK 47s. A third man could be seen around the back of the van, obviously lying in wait. The men with the AKs chattered quickly as a new figure sporting green Hawaiian board shorts and a black polo shirt approached them, their feet shuffling slightly in anticipation. The newcomer's face struck Lara as instantly familiar, his reaction to the armed men in front of him strangely casual and at ease.  _Faust._  He might not have been Rojas, but he was certainly the next best thing.

"Got a positive ID!" Soap yelled into his comms. "Whoever these guys are though, they're not happy to see him." Five gunshots were fired and two bodies suddenly stretched out across the pavement in front of Faust, the weight of a desert eagle heavy in his right hand. "Ghost, we have a situation here!" Faust turned towards them, killing the man lying in wait behind the van before their eyes, blood spraying out in thick mist onto the white paintwork. In a paralysing split second, Lara suddenly realised that the action had drawn his attention right to the car they were sitting in.

"Get down! Get down!"

MacTavish's voice was loud in her ears, his hand suddenly on the back of her head, forcing her to duck down behind Roach's seat. Bullets shook the car, the windscreen splintering and smashing in the process. There was a drawn out, shrill cry. It took Lara a good second or two to realise that it was simply the car horn being continually pressed.

"Fuck, Driver's hit!" Soap was kicking his door open in seconds whilst Roach followed suit in the front passenger's seat. "He's getting away! Roach, let's go, let's go!"

They dove out of the car, Soap leading the way as Roach sprinted after him down the street. Panicking, and seemingly ignoring the blood and brain matter splattered through out the car interior, Lara crawled forwards, pulling off a glove to feel at Driver's neck. The still warm skin felt like a contradiction to the pulse that her fingers were unable to find, but a closer inspection of Driver's skull showed a deep exit wound in the back of his head, the scent of iron heavy blood suddenly flooding Lara's nostrils. She grimaced, reaching forwards and hauling his body backwards away from the steering wheel. The shrill cry stopped. For a split second the car was thrown into an eerie kind of silence that could only ever be achieved by the presence of a dead body.

There was a volley of rapid fire in the distance, reality slapping McCoy obstinately in the face. The gun fire brought with it loud screams and the screech of car brakes before MacTavish's voice was suddenly loud and clear across her comms.

" _Ghost, our driver's dead and we're on foot! Meet us at hotel Rio and cut him off if you can!"_

" _Roger, I'm on my way!"_

Her rifle firmly in hand, Lara sprinted after Soap and Roach, turning a sharp right into the next street. In the distance she could just see Roach's back as he turned the next corner, disappearing from her line of sight behind a large yellow bus. All around her was confusion, people screaming and bleeding as they tried to stagger to safety. Out of desperation, Faust had let off a series of shots onto a group of civilians, hoping that the devastation might slow down his pursuers. As she ran past the bus herself, Lara caught sight of a man slumped on the ground, a red line of blood behind him where he had slid down the paintwork. Both of his hands were clasped to his right shoulder, crimson still oozing out between his fingers as it seeped through the burnt orange of his shirt. He was mumbling softly in Portuguese, his pleading eyes meeting with hers.

Every instinct in Lara's body told her to stop and kneel by his side to try and stem the bleeding. She had medical gauze in her kit as well as and morphine, more than enough to treat him with until help arrived. The moment where she forced herself to keep on running would to serve to haunt her far into the future. After all, it was the first time she could ever remember feeling like more of a soldier than a medic.

" _He went into that alley!"_ As she made another right turn, Lara was just in time to see Ghost disappear into an alleyway on the left hand side of the street. She picked up her pace, ignoring the lead feeling in her shins as her feet continued to push off from the hard tarmac. She could feel the familiar damp of sweat at the back of her neck and under her arms, the body armour across her chest only serving to trap even more heat tight against her body. As she reached the mouth of the alleyway herself, the only real thought pushing through her mind was if this chase was ever going to  _end_.

" _I have a clear shot!"_ Roach's voice rang out of the radio.

" _Non lethal takedowns only. Roach, take the shot. Go for his leg!"_  MacTavish's voice remained cool and calm, even if its volume over her radio suggested otherwise. As Lara rounded the alleyway corner herself she saw Gary knelt down, his eyes firmly fixed down the sights of his rifle.

There was the sound of a single gun shot, the noise louder in intensity due to the close proximity of the alleyway walls. Roach lowered his gun to survey his work, his mouth quirking up into the briefest of smiles. Ghost and Royce were already darting forwards further into the alley to recover their objective.

"He's down." MacTavish nodded bluntly, giving Gary a quick pat on the shoulder. "Roach, take Ozone and secure Driver's body. See if you can find any ID on those blokes that jumped our friend here, we need to know what we're dealing with."

"I'm on it."

"And Bones..." Soap's eyes were suddenly on hers, his voice as coldly professional as it always managed to be when they were in the field. "Get Faust patched up for interrogation."

* * *

At least it was a clean shot.

Not that that made any difference to Faust, the man's face contorted with pain as he'd attempted to fumble at his left calf, his hands already soaked in blood. Bones had followed as Royce and Ghost hauled him up off of the ground, holding him between them as they dragged him further down the alleyway, the loud barks of angered dogs only aiding to cover up his pained grunts and groans. They didn't stay moving for long, an empty garage on the left side of the alley providing as good a place as any to set up camp. Content that they'd found what they were looking for, Ghost reached for his hand gun, twirling it around and hitting Faust squarely in the back of the head, rendering him unconscious. He nodded to a folded metal chair in the far corner of the garage.

"Get him set up over there. I'll see what we've got to work with around 'ere."

Royce was suddenly looking at her expectantly and so Lara jumped up onto the raised platform, her hands hooked underneath Faust's arms to pull him up whilst Royce pushed. She tried in vain to be gentle around his injured his leg, but in the back of her mind she knew that it would make little difference in the long run. After all, she'd seen this side of the 141 before, and back then it had ended with Antonov's brains being blown out across the nearest wall.

Royce worked quickly on pinning Faust's arms behind his back, making use of a long line of plastic cable that they'd found on the garage floor. Lara meanwhile was preoccupied with stopping the bleeding from Faust's calf, her hands pressing medical gauze against the wound as firmly as she could. The action felt as though it was using up every inch of self restraint she possessed. Ordinarily she'd be talking to her patient, monitoring their condition, supplying them with morphine and an I.V if they needed it. That kind of response was second nature. However, MacTavish's words had been very clear. She was expected to patch Faust up so that he didn't bleed out to a point where he was useless to them and nothing more. As counter intuitive as it might have felt to her, Lara was enough of a soldier to realise that anything more than the most basic level of medical care for Faust would be regarded as a waste of time. She had her orders. And even if the medic within her was screaming for her to show a little empathy, Bones was professional, or at least detached enough to see that the operation had to come before her own selfish need to show compassion.

"Is he stable?" Lara suddenly became aware of Ghost behind her, his tone as blank as the mask he wore on his face.

"Stable enough."

"Good." Riley leant forwards into her vision, handing her a grubby looking rag of cloth. "In case you need something to strap him up with. Royce, see if you can wake him up. I need him to be talking sense when I start asking questions."

McCoy said nothing in return, accepting the cloth with distaste. She held it around Faust's leg, pulling it tight across the pile of white gauze that she had pressed against the wound. She felt his calf twitch as she moved away, suddenly becoming aware of Faust's eyes, open and staring from his seat above her. He instinctively glanced down to his leg and winced, inaudible words suddenly spilling from his mouth.

Lara moved away from him as though he was white hot. She turned to her right, her eyes suddenly settling on Royce and Ghost, the pair setting up a small table to the left of Faust. Ghost lifted an old car battery onto the tabletop and it took McCoy more than a split second to realise what it was for. Suddenly, textbook images of electrocution victims were flooding past her vision and she was a preclinical medical student again, an involuntary shudder forcing its way down her spine. She fought to hide the emotion from reaching her face, but she must have given something away, as Faust was suddenly following her gaze, his mouth erupting into panicked speech as soon as he saw the object beside him.

"No... _Please_... Understand me, I know nothing! Você tem que me escutar!" McCoy's stomach lurched on instinct. She bit down on her lip, willing away the feeling, her brain fighting to justify the interrogation. She closed her eyes, remembering back to the devastation Faust had left in his wake only minutes before, every bleeding civilian serving as a justification of sorts.

"Hotel Six..." She hadn't realised that MacTavish had joined them until she heard Roach call after him from the alleyway. "Driver's secure."

"What about the militia?"

"AKs, enough rounds to do some serious damage and two frags a piece." The sergeant shook his head. "No sign of any radios or other equipment."

"We should still be careful. No doubt Rojas is going to have his own militia protecting him. Chances are they'll be significantly better equipped." He climbed up into the garage, eyeing Faust briefly before turning to Ghost. "We all set?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." He turned around to Royce, who was busy checking over his rifle. "This is going to take some time. I want you to take the others and check out the favelas for any sign of Rojas. That's where this guy was headed."

"Understood." Royce nodded and jumped down from the garage to join the others. "We'll radio in if we find anything."

"With respect, Sir." Lara spoke up before she could stop herself, trying to ignore the spark that jumped in front of her vision as Ghost experimentally pushed the two battery leads together. "I think I should stay here and monitor Faust. He needs-"

"I need as many men as possible searching the favelas, they're a bloody labyrinth as it is. Ghost and I are more than capable of handling things here."

"But, Sir-"

"That was an  _order,_  Bones." The terse quality to his voice was more pronounced than she'd ever heard before. "Get to work. Losing Rojas out here isn't an option."

* * *

The screech as MacTavish unceremoniously pulled down the garage door might have formed a partition between her and Faust, but unfortunately it did nothing to block out the panicked babble that continued to spill from his lips. Around her, there was the clink of rifles being checked as the others seemed oblivious to Faust's cries, Royce stepping out into the centre of the group, immediately taking on his new authoritative role.

"Let's keep this quick and clean. Remember, there are civillians in the favela, so watch your fire down there. Everyone clear?"

"Crystal, Royce." Meat nodded.

"Ok, then let's move."

They set off jogging down the alleyway, forever conscious of the amount of space between them in case a sudden contact forced them to react at a second's notice. Lara was bringing up the rear, her eyes continually feeling as though they should be fixed over her shoulder. By now the sweat beneath her combat gear had become sticky, a damp layer that had the fabric sticking to her skin, each and every step making her feel more and more uncomfortable. It was hardly a new feeling thanks to her patrols in Afghanistan, but it was certainly one that she wasn't crazy about reliving.

They came to a stop just before a shallow drop into the nearby favela, where a group of civilians were stood around chatting in an open square, their calm voices seemingly unaware of the commotion that was barely a mile away from their homes. Ducking behind a dumpster, Royce kept his gun out of sight as he craned his neck out of cover for a better look at the area below them. From their vantage point, the immediate layout of the complex network of alleyways that made up the area could clearly be seen.

"Place has got more blind spots than a fucking maze." Meat spat cynically.

"And we need to act like Rojas is hiding behind every one of them." Royce responded quickly, crouching back down behind the dumpster. He turned to face them all fully, a serious, yet unfazed look gracing his features. "Ok, so this is how it's going to work. The place seems to fan out more to right, so that's where we need the most boots on the ground. Roach, Ozone, I want you with me. We'll work our way along the right side of the favela, clearing buildings as we go." He waited for them to nod in agreement before turning to Lara and Meat. "That means I want you two covering my ass. Work your way around the left side and make sure they can't jump us from behind. We sweep the area from both sides and meet back in the middle with as few shots fired as possible, right?"

"Right."

"Then let's go." Straightening up, Royce readjusted his rifle, a quick smile flicking up the corners of his mouth. "Meat, get these civvies out of here."

What happened next, as with every other contact situation, felt as thought it was happening both quickly and slowly, their strategy torn apart almost immediately. As soon as Meat had fired his rifle up into the air, the civilians scattered, their frenzied cries falling heavily on the air. To start with, the favela had been still, silenced. Time seemed to slow as angry yells suddenly became audible, their volume increasing as their owners drew nearer and nearer. The clatter of machine gun fire was next to assault the air as the militia opened fire on their position, forcing Lara to take cover behind a burnt out green car and time to apparently speed up again.

There was a cacophany ringing above her head as bullets clattered and ricocheted against the car, the noise loud and threatening as it forced itself against her eardrums. On instinct, Lara pulled her entire body inwards, pushing her left side hard against the rusting metal. She was no by means safe, but the feeling alone gave her the control she needed to think, to reload her rifle and take stock of their situation. She'd let off a few rounds of covering fire as she made for the car, but the frantic, sudden nature of the contact had still managed to send her head spinning. Directly in front of her, she could see Roach, crouched behind an equally burnt out pick up truck, his rifle resting atop the sloped metal, the loud hammering of bullets pulsing through the air. Behind her was a similar noise as Meat kept firing in steady, controlled bursts that sounded as though they were exploding right beside her skull.

"I'm out!" She heard Greg call out, before the rusted metal of the car lurched slightly, indicating that he was resting his back against it too. McCoy didn't need telling twice. In a single, fluid motion she straightened up, still keeping the majority of her body behind the relative safety of cover. Lifting her rifle, Bones' vision immediately settled on a small hut dead ahead, flickers of movement indicating that there was someone crouching just behind the low wall. As Meat had before her, Lara began to lay down short bursts of suppressing fire, forever mindful that a new target could appear at a second's notice. Out of the corner of her left eye, she saw a figure breaking for cover in an alleyway to the left, her gun training on the target simultaneously. A quick glimpse of the AK strapped to the man's back and she was surgically firing two rounds into his chest, watching as his rag doll body slumped to the floor.

"Clear!" The brief still was accentuated by the chaos that had come before. Her eyes fighting the urge to blink, Lara kept looking dead ahead, her rifle ready for even the slightest movement.

"Second storey building." By now Greg was looking at her, his hand slapping at the back of her left shoulder to make sure that he had her attention. "We'll breach the front entrance and work from there." A nod from Bones was all that was needed to satisfy him and he began sprinting for the building, confident in the knowledge that Bones was covering him as he moved.

When it was her turn to run, McCoy instantly ducked her head down as much as humanly possible, half expecting a gunshot to come out of nowhere as she covered the short distance. She hit the wall of the front of the building hard, her shoulder bouncing off thick concrete. Above them was a large, open space that looked like window minus the glass. There was no time to pause for breath, McCoy noticing the flash bang clasped in Meat's hand. A silent countdown was the only warning she got, as he tossed it up over their heads and into the bottom storey of the building.

They took turns jumping the wall with Meat taking point. It was a straight, oblong shaped room, with a staircase against the right wall. The mundane, white plaster to their right was splattered with red, the result of a man that Meat had shot only seconds before. The man himself was lying motionlessly on his back, his left arm crumpled unnaturally beneath him. His face was blank, glazed eyes fixed on the ceiling, his t-shirt crimson where a row of three gunshots had carved up the left side of his torso. Aside from the fact that he was dead, one more thing was blatantly clear. He  _wasn't_  Rojas.

Greg gestured at her quickly, his thumb pointing upwards towards the ceiling. They stacked up at the bottom of the staircase, Lara tapping Meat on the back to signify that she was ready. Silently they moved up halfway, to where the stairs turned 90 degrees to the left. Another flash bang, this time Lara's, was tossed into the second storey, the distinctive bang serving as their cue to move up.

" _Shit_ …" The floor was empty, as open plan as the storey below. Mattresses were strewn across the floor, as well as the odd gas lamp and a variety of empty tin cans. In the distance, they could hear gun shots and yelling, a clear sign that Royce's group had run into another contact. "Over here…" Slowly, Greg indicated to a large window on the right side of the building, moving over towards it, his body hunched over and crouched. Lara followed suit, heading to the opposite side of the window. There was no glass, but the height gave them an excellent vantage point over the next couple of buildings. From above, they could see three men, two taking cover in the alleyway directly in front of them, and one lying prone on top of one of the huts, his back clearly exposed. All three were firing on where the others were taking cover.

"Royce, we have eyes on your position. Three targets, two at your nine o clock and one up high. Hold your position while we take them out, over."

" _Copy that, Meat._

"I've got the guy on the building." Lara had her sights firmly fixed on the target before she spoke.

"On your go then."

There wasn't the time to dwell on anything else and with another burst of fire, three men lay dead. Automatically, they both reloaded their rifles in near unison, Royce's voice crackling over the radio.

" _All three targets down. Thanks for the assist. Be advised, we're seeing some activity up front, chances are they'll be coming around to look for you."_

"We're moving up now."

" _Copy that. Keep it tight out there, Meat."_

"Always do." A brief smirk passed across Greg's features before he spoke again. "And Royce? You owe me one hell of a beer when you get your ass back to base."

" _Fuck you, bro."_

"I'm seeing some movement." Lara said quickly, pointing over to a clear square towards the back of the favela. It was surrounded by four buildings and crates, with the occasional motorcycle littering the streets. "Two, maybe three targets, by that building behind the barrels."

"Yeah, I'm seeing it too."

"We should double back, come at them from the other side."

"No." Greg shook his head. "We'll keep moving up the alley. With Royce and the others pushing forwards they won't know which way to look."

They headed back down the stairs and out of the building, watching their corners as they entered the main alleyway. They were flanked by buildings, small, empty huts on both their left and right hand sides. Behind them, was the mouth of the alleyway and the cars they'd taken cover behind only minutes before. Up front was the tight opening to the square that they'd seen from the top storey of the building.

McCoy took point, hugging the wall as she peered around the corner into the square. Meat was in front of her, leaning against the wall opposite and covering her blind spots. There was a loud yell of Portuguese as he stuck his head out of cover, followed by a volley of machine gun fire that barely missed him.

" _Fuck!"_  On instinct, Lara blind fired, a desperate attempt to keep them back whilst they took stock of their situation. From where she was standing, they'd walked straight into a stalemate. To progress, they'd have to move into the square, where the lack of direct cover meant suicide.

"Bones! There's cover directly behind you. I need you to get to it."

"You're kidding me, right?" Another burst of fire, this time in McCoy's direction forced her to yell louder.

"No! I can give you suppressing fire. It's not far, you'll make it."

"What about you?"

"I'll move up as soon as you can cover me." Pointing his rifle around the corner, Meat let off another burst of fire. "But I need you to move,  _now!_ "

Rounding that corner felt like stepping into the abyss, but McCoy did it anyway, putting every inch of trust that she had straight into Meat's hands. As soon as she cleared the corner, she saw exactly what he meant, a small porch attached to the building she'd been hiding behind, providing her with two low brick walls for cover. As she leapt for safety, Lara heard an explosion, followed by a series of high pitched screams. She didn't stop to make sense of the noise until she was crouched within the porch.

Staying by the edge of wall that was closest to Meat's position, Lara peered out, finally seeing the source of the explosion. At the opposite side of the square were the flaming remnants of three oil drums, two bodies lying beside them. One was already ominously still, but the other was flailing around helplessly on the floor, his cries becoming quieter with every second that passed. A glimmer of movement drove Lara's attention to the balcony of a building on the right side of the square, where their final target had just ducked down behind a wall, helpless to the plight of his friend below.

"Talk to me, Bones!"

"Two targets down, one on the balcony opposite you."

"Can you get a fix on him?"

"I've got a clear shot." Lara nodded quickly, her eyes fixed on the balcony. "There's more cover on the other side of the square, your nine o clock."

"Got it. I'm moving in 3…2…1…"

As she'd predicted, as soon as Meat broke from cover, the target on the balcony moved out of his, just enough to fire. Lara's first shot missed and hit the wall behind him, but her second caught him in the neck as he attempted to duck, his body thrown backwards from the impact.

It was then when McCoy saw it. A flicker of movement in the corner of her eye. A door opening by just a crack from the building straight ahead, just enough for the muzzle of a gun to poke through. She heard herself calling out, pivoting around so that she had a clear shot. The muzzle flashed as the gun was fired and Lara aimed down her own gun sights, firing a long burst into the flimsy white wood of the door. It tumbled open immediately, a body collapsing heavily to the ground, the back of his shirt riddled with red bullet holes.

For a single, relieved moment she honestly believed that she'd gotten there in time. And then she heard Meat  _scream_.

" _Greg!_ " He hadn't got far, his body laid only a few metres away from her position. Shrugging off the medical kit from her back, Lara scrambled forwards, her hands immediately grabbing his shoulders. The first thing she saw was his face, twisted and contorted with pain. The second was the sight of his hands, already red and slick with blood as they grasped futilely at a wound in the centre of his left thigh.

She could still hear voices but there was no more firing. Either way, McCoy knew that they couldn't stay out in the open. Tucking both her fore arms under his arm pits, she pulled him backwards, every muscle in her body groaning under his weight. In just his socks, Greg was a good 20 pounds heavier than McCoy. In his full kit and armour, moving him felt ten times as difficult.

"Royce!" Manoeuvring Meat so that his back was leaning against the low wall of the porch, Lara moved herself in front of his legs, her hands attempting to move Greg's out of the way so that she could see his wound. "Meat's down! I repeat, Meat is  _down!_ "

" _What's the situation there, over?"_  His reply might have been clinically professional as it hit her comm. unit, but Lara could sense Royce's concern none the less.

"I'm trying to get him stable, but he's going to need a CASEVAC."

" _We'll radio ahead. Tell us your position and we'll double back for you."_

"The left corner of the favela, before it slopes up the hill. If you come at us from your position, you'll see a clearing dead ahead. We're at the leftmost building, behind two low walls."

" _I hear you, Bones. Sit tight, we'll get to you as soon as we can."_

In the distance, McCoy could already hear more gun fire. She tried to block it from her thoughts, instead focusing back on the task of stemming the bleeding from Meat's thigh. Whilst she'd been talking on the radio, she'd successfully sliced into his trousers with her knife, cutting away the fabric so that she could see the wound. She was instantly hit by a wave of déjà vu. The bullet MacTavish had taken to the leg whirled in front of her mind's eye. Except this time, something was very different, the volume of blood oozing from the wound catching her off balance. Whether it had been intentional or otherwise, it looked as thought the bullet had nicked Greg's femoral artery.

" _Fuuuuuuuuck!_ " Greg's body writhed in front of her as she pressed a pad of gauzes against his thigh, both of her hands applying as much pressure as she was physically able to. "The mother fucking  _dick!_ "

"Greg… Try to hold still…  _please_." She hadn't meant for her voice to come across so pleadingly, but it did none the less, her heart aching with how helpless she felt. She needed to get fluids into him, but the bleeding was so profuse that she didn't dare take her hands off the gauze. "C'mon mate, I need you to work with me here…"

" _Fuck you_ …" The words came out as more of a pained sob, Meat's features twisting again as his body racked with pain. He bit his lip, his eyes squeezing shut. "Where the fuck is, Royce?

"They're on their way. So is a CASEVAC. We're getting you out of here, Greg."

"Old bastard has never left me high and dry before…" Whether Meat knew that he was going off on a tangent remained to be seen, but Lara saw fit not to interrupt him as she pressed another wad of gauze to the sodden pile lying beneath her hands. "…Dragged my ass out of worse shit… than this…"

" _Greg!_ " The linguist's eyes had closed but the tone of her voice forced him to focus again. "I need you to keep talking. You can rest soon, I promise you." His skin was turning a grey colour, cold beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead and neck. "Tell me about this other shit Royce dragged you out of."

"My first op with the 141… a regular FNG. I caught some shrapnel in my right side… was stranded out in the open like some little… _bitch._ " He laughed breathlessly. "Royce hauled my ass out of there… risked his neck for some kid he barely knew. I've…owed him, ever fucking since."

" _Bones!"_  Lara's radio crackled into life, causing her to jump in her skin. The voice was unmistakably Roach's. _"Be advised, I'm coming around from your left side… Hold your fire, over."_

"You're all clear, Roach." McCoy replied bluntly, before turning her attentions back to Meat. She gave him a smile, attempting to push as much reassurance into it as she could muster. "You hear that, mate? They're almost here. Just a few more minutes."

Sure enough, barely a minute later, Roach rounded the same corner that Lara had been taking cover behind what felt like a lifetime ago. His rifle gripped firmly in his hands, he dove to her side, kneeling in cover by Meat's body.

"Where are the others?" In the distance, Lara could still hear firing, although it didn't sound as though it was from the direction Gary had come from.

"I volunteered to come around on my own. We were moving too slowly as a group." He turned his attentions to Greg, for the most part managing to push all the shock from his features as he spoke to him. "You've looked better, bro. I'm not gonna lie."

" _Fuck you_ … Sanderson."

"I need you to hold this…" Lara cut in, nodding to the gauze beneath her hands. She'd only just reapplied another few layers and already red was soaking through to coat her fingers. "Both hands, ok?"

"Ok." They switched places, Gary's hands quickly replacing hers on Meat's gauze. Finally feeling as though she was making progress, Lara tore into her medical kit, retrieving an I.V kit quickly. Ripping away at the packaging with her teeth, she rolled up the arm of Meat's shirt, exposing his elbow. One small mercy at least, was that she was able to establish the I.V line with relative ease.

"I need…" Greg's voice faded out, his movements slower now, his strength fading. A bloodied hand found its way up to his neck, limp fingers hooking around the chain that held two morphine syrettes close to his chest.

"I'm sorry, mate." McCoy pre-empted the action, her hand closing around his wrist gently. "Your heart rate's too low… I can't risk…" She tailed off herself, not wanting to voice the consequence. Instead, she moved her hand up to his neck, her fingers feeling his weak pulse. Just when exactly this simple act had turned into her lightly gripping the side of his neck in an attempt to calm him, she didn't know, but the action seemed to help, if only a little. She looked him in the eye, forcing another smile out across her features. "The worst's over, Greg. Help's coming, ok? And I'm not going anywhere."

" _Roach?… Bones?… Come in, over!"_  At first, she hadn't realised that the gunfire had stopped, until the harsh voice across the radio drew her attention to how quiet their surroundings had become. This time the voice belonged to Ozone, his voice loud, almost panicked.  _"Do you read me, over?"_

"I've got you, Ozone. What's your situation?" Roach was the first to reply.

" _We were cornered… We managed to take them out, but Royce is down."_

"Royce?" The news made both Lara and Gary jump in their skin and they exchanged a brief glance as Roach continued to ask the one question that they were both dreading. "What's his status?"

" _There was nothing I could do."_ Time was slowing again, suddenly becoming agonised and tense. There was a pause, but Ozone spoke again before either of them could speak.  _"He's dead."_

"You're sure?" Gary's expression was nothing short of horrified.

" _He took a bullet to the throat."_  It sounded as though Ozone wanted to say more, but instead the statement was simply left hanging for a moment.  _"I'm rallying up to your position now."_

"Do you have him with you?"

" _I was never going to leave him behind, Roach."_

"R-royce?" Meat croaked into the silence, his voice soft and hoarse. He'd obviously heard the man's name over the radio. "He's coming… right?"

" _Right._ " She had no idea where it had come from, but the lie sprung from Lara's lips on instinct. She could feel Meat's pulse weakening beneath her fingertips and it would do no good to tell the truth now. "He's coming for you, mate. We just need to wait a little bit longer."

"The CASEVAC said twenty minutes minimum." Roach said weakly, desperately trying to keep his voice out of Meat's earshot. Not that it mattered either way, as the linguist seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness.

"That's time we don't have, mate." Lara took over from Roach, her hands back on Meat's thigh. Her eyes never left Meat the entire time. "Get back onto them, tell them it's  _level one_  priority." She tore her focus from Greg away just long enough to watch Roach nod slowly. "And tell them…" Her voice faltered slightly. "Tell them that we've already sustained two fatalities."

The world suddenly seemed to be quiet, the surroundings set only to the back drop of Roach's constant battle over the radio. In disgust, Lara disconnected hers from her ear with one hand, throwing it onto the floor and focusing all of her attentions back onto Meat. By now the linguist was impossibly weak, his skin pale and drenched with sweat.

"I never… trusted you, Bones." The words were barely audible as they crept from Greg's mouth. "Always… thought that…. you were a real stick in the mud."

"Maybe you were right." McCoy smiled, her voice all false reassurance and hope. "Either way, it doesn't matter now."

"It  _does._ " He spluttered weakly, his eyes barely even open anymore. "…You didn't… deserve-…"

" _Stop_ , Greg. You don't need to." She pushed another smile across her lips, making eye contact with him as his eyes briefly fluttered open. "How about you tell me tomorrow, eh?"

" _Yeah."_

It took her a moment to notice. Meat's body had been so stiff and so quiet for the last five minutes that it was difficult for her to see any change. And then, McCoy realised that she couldn't hear him breathing, couldn't see his chest rising and falling anymore. Immediately, her hands leapt to his throat, her fingers desperately trying to find a pulse. What they found instead was merely a clammy section of still warm skin, devoid of any other kind of life.

" _No, no, no, no, no!_ " Her hands were moving of their own accord as she moved his body into position, her palms pressing flat against his sternum. She pushed hard and fast, the rhythm steady at first, but quickly becoming more and more frantic and erratic as time limped on. Her stomach was in constant knots, a huge lump forming in the back of her throat, so large that if felt as though it was starving her body of oxygen. And yet she kept her hands moving, a desperate, if completely hopeless act. "Please, Greg…  _Please_ … You fucking _can't._..-"

" _Lara_ …" There were hands at her forearms, pulling her away, and McCoy suddenly saw Roach in front of her vision, his eyes expressing every emotion that she felt locked up behind her own. He kept hold of her, his fingers digging into her forearms, their grip tight. His touch felt as though it was burning her skin and McCoy tore herself away from his grasp abruptly, her body almost toppling over from the action. Without another word, Gary reached for Meat's face with one hand, smoothing it down his features and closing his eyes. He looked back to her purposefully, his voice flat and monotone. "He's gone."

* * *

Half an hour later, the only sound Lara could hear was the steady beat of helicopter rotor blades.

The CASEVAC bird had come too late. Fifteen minutes earlier and Meat would have died on board. Twenty minutes earlier and she might have even been able to save his life.

They'd radioed ahead to MacTavish with the news. Ozone and Bones had been assigned to get Meat, Royce and Driver on board the CASEVAC helicopter from the rally point. Faust was dead and Rojas had been tracked down, but Roach had been needed to push up the hill alone in pursuit. Ozone had volunteered to go with him, but everyone knew that transporting the bodies back to their exfil point was a two person job.

Now, Ozone and Lara were sat opposite each other. They were silent, both fresh out of words. Both of them were caked in blood, dust and sweat. A metre or so away lay three bodies, each zipped up in a black body bag, faceless and removed. Lara knew that Ozone felt responsible for Royce's death, just as she was blaming herself for Greg's. Driver had simply been unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It was unreal, so alien to think that they were gone. She could still see Meat's smug smirk in front of her eyes, could still hear Royce's characteristic laugh over the loud rumble of the chopper blades. It was as if they had been torn away from her mind, leaving jagged, bloody memories in their wake, each one as painful as the last. With two bullets, it felt as though the entirety of the 141 had been turned on its head.

For Lara, the fighting in Rio Janeiro may have been over, but a fresh battle was raging on in her head. It was nothing new to her, but with every friend she lost it became more and more like a battle that she was losing. After all for every life that she saved, it seemed that Lara was always destined to lose more…

 


	24. Unfinished Sympathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

Within two hours, Meat and Royce were dead. At any other time, MacTavish would have remarked on just how quickly you could take a man's life. But now? Now the worst part was that he didn't even have time to react, never mind grieve. They still had a job to do, and right then, losing Rojas would have simply meant that Royce and Greg would have given their lives for absolutely  _nothing_.

If there had been one constant thought in his head as he'd chased Rojas, then that would have been it. Those who didn't know him would have seen it as insensitive but there was no way in hell Soap was about to let his friends die for  _fuck all_.

His wrists were burning, the bone, muscle and sinew that made up his forearms aching from the impact that had come from landing on that car, Rojas trapped beneath him. His knuckles were raw and bloody, a combination of Faust's and Rojas' blood mottled against his skin. Flexing his fingers, Soap felt the numb feeling that had overcome his fists dissipate a little. He'd lost count of just how many punches he'd thrown, sweat dripping down his temples from the exertion and the heat beating down on top of his head. It was unprofessional, maybe even inhuman to admit that Rojas had received the full brunt of Soap's anger, frustration and remorse.

A groan brought MacTavish's attentions back to the present and he turned to his right, his eyes settling on the feeble body that now hung limply from its bindings. An hour ago they'd hauled Rojas up against the wall and bound his wrists to the iron grating of a nearby window, the thick rope so tight that the skin below was quickly rubbed red raw as his body rocked back and forth helplessly with every punch. Now, Alex the Red, or at least what was left of him looked defeated, his held tilted to the right, eyes desperately blinking as they attempted to find shelter from the piercing sun overhead. Behind him, the cracked white plaster of the building was splattered with blood, the dirt floor littered with similar crimson pools where Rojas had spat and spluttered. Soap remembered breaking his nose, the cartilage crunching beneath his closed fist.

During an interrogation, it was safe to say that Soap became as close to numb as he ever physically could. It was a dark necessity, one that he would always be sure to take on himself, rather than delegate the job to Ghost or Roach. It wasn't something he enjoyed, rather it was something that broke him almost as much as the person he was questioning, but his command forced him to do it none the less. After all, if he had the right to ask the questions, then that also meant that he had the responsibility of getting his hands dirty in order to answer them. The sad truth was that if he'd been present for Antonov's interrogation, Soap would have taken on the responsibility of executing him as well.

" _Makarov_..."Ghost had taken over the questions in MacTavish's brief silence, his voice coarse, yet still muffled by his mask. There was a menace to the words that left his mouth, something that even for him seemed very rare. "Just tell us where the fuck we can find him."

"I told you..." Rojas' voice was more of a rasp than anything else now. He moved his head as far from Ghost as he could, the trails of blood from his left ear, nose and lip almost glistening as they were brought fully into the sunlight. He spoke in fluent English, the kind of precise, if heavily accented language that showed he had learnt it with his 'business' in mind. "You're stupid if you think that I … even  _met_  him."

"But not stupid enough to believe that this was your first deal with him." MacTavish cut in, kneeling in front of Rojas' face. "Come on, mate, a big shipment like that? Not something you'd risk your neck with unless you knew that you had a good customer in Makarov, right?" He watched Rojas' face for a moment, his eyes flicking across the deep purple bruising that had begun to blossom across his cheek bones. "We  _know_ you've had deals with Makarov before, so the less innocent you act, the better."

"Fuck you." Rojas spat bitterly, blinking at MacTavish defiantly with his right eye, his left eye forced shut from the swelling around its socket. " _Buceta_..."

"I don't think you quite heard me, mate." In a split second, Soap grabbed Rojas' chin, holding it in front of his face so that the dealer could only look him in the eye. "I want you to have a good, long think about what you know we're capable of... And then I'm going to ask you that question again. Are we clear?" He let go of Rojas' face with disgust, straightening up and nodding to Ghost quickly. His next order came out deliberately blunt and terse. "Connect up the car battery."

" _Merda_..." Rojas had trouble maintaining his composure this time, clearly understanding MacTavish's words. He began to wriggle in his bindings, his fingers flexing within the confines of their restraints, those on his left hand bloody stubs where the nails had been torn away. But no matter how much he moved, Rojas remained fixed to the grating, his hands locked around its metal.

In the end, MacTavish chose not to repeat his question. Instead he merely took the battery cable Ghost handed him and touched it to the metal of the window grating, the movement swift and without any hesitation. The scream it earned him was blood curdling, Rojas' body convulsing, his limbs twisting and straining at the rope that held him in place. The shock only lasted a couple of seconds at the most, but for anyone present, it would have felt like hours.

" _Now..._ " Rojas was whimpering as Soap knelt back down in front of him, his voice soft, a contrast to how it had been previously. "About Makarov _._.."

"I don't know where he is...  _I swear_..." Rojas' voice was barely a whisper, his head hanging as he spoke, face hidden from view by the black matte of his baseball cap. "I met him... but he is never in the same place for long."

"Where was he last?"

"I don't know!... He didn't say and I don't ask."

"And I'm just supposed to believe that?"

" _Yes._.." Rojas took a deep breath inwards, as though the act was buying him time. His body was still shaking from the electric shock, his voice wavering as a result. "He spoke about one place... a long time ago."

"Where?" This time Ghost interrupted, his voice too hasty for MacTavish's liking. He shot the lieutenant an angry glare.

"A word I didn't know...  _gulag_. A Russian prison, maybe."

"I need more than that."

"I don't remember the name!" Rojas coughed, his head lifting upwards for the briefest moment. "Petrapav... some place like that."

"And why is Makarov so interested in a Russian prison?"

"There's someone there, someone  _important_. A prisoner. He called him 627."

"Prisoner 627?" Soap raised a confused eyebrow. "Why would Makarov care about some prisoner? Is he planning on breaking him out?"

"No." Rojas weakly shook his head. "He hates this man... More than the Americans, more than  _anything_."

"You think that Makarov would make an actual attempt on this fucking gulag?" Ghost hissed as Soap straightened up to face him. They instinctively moved away from Rojas, their backs to him and their voices low.

"If 627 is such a thorn in that bastard's side then I doubt it. It sounds as though Makarov has him exactly where he wants him." Soap sighed thoughtfully, glancing back towards Rojas. "But somehow I think it's the only lead we're likely to get out of  _him_."

"And if Shepherd starts breathing down our neck wanting more?"

"The we tell him that it's all we've got. If this con's the bait we need to catch that psychopath, then let's hang him from a tree. Radio HQ and give them a sit-rep, I want an exfil out of here as soon as bloody possible."

" _Sir._ "

"You have what you want." Rojas croaked as Soap approached him again, tilting his head up to the light in an attempt to look the Captain in the eye. "You do not need me now."

"I think we both know that I can't just let you go." MacTavish responded blankly.

"Then finish it another way. I don't like the waiting."

"You actually  _want_  me to put a bullet into you?"

"If you have to. I am not stupid, I know how this ends... All I ask is that you are kind and it is quick."

"Kind, eh?" Soap tutted loudly, his tongue clicking against his teeth. He smiled quickly to himself. "A bit ironic that you're asking me to be  _kind_."

"I don't understand."

"Tell me, mate, did you see anything about what happened in Russia? It must have reached the news out here, right? So you'll have heard about it, about how innocent people lost their lives there for no good reason." He paused, his eyes fixed onto Rojas'. "You helped murder them, didn't you?"

"I just sent the guns..."

"And don't tell me, what people do with those guns isn't your responsibility?" MacTavish laughed. "That's bullshit, Alex, and we both know it." He tilted his head to one side, as though he was attempting to understand Rojas' thoughts. "The Russians Makarov murdered got no kindness from him, and they sure as hell didn't get any from you or your guns. The men I lost received no kindness from your fucking militia. So tell me, why the hell should I show you some kindness now?"

" _Hotel Six!"_ His call sign suddenly crackled out of his radio and MacTavish was forced to tear his eyes away from those of Rojas, the dealer's last shred of composure now lost thanks to his words. He reached up, pressing his earpiece further into his left ear so that he could better hear the voice.

"I've got you, Archer. Give me a sit-rep, over."

" _We're en-route to your position, but we're seeing a lot of activity in the streets up front. Looks like the militia are closing in."_

"How many?"

" _Difficult to say, but from here it looks like almost 200, front and back. There's no way we can RV with you in time for an exfil."_

"Copy that, mate. Have you got somewhere to lay low, over?"

" _Negative, but we have enough petrol in the tank to get us out of the city and to the secondary LZ. Majority of the militia looks to be headed for you, so we can slip out back."_

"Roger that." Soap nodded, turning round just in time to see Roach run towards him from where he had been holed up on sentry duty. "Get yourselves out and sit tight. We'll get you an exfil as soon as we can."

" _Copy that, Hotel Six. Good luck out there."_

"We've got company." Roach nodded quickly. "The claymores at the bottom of the hill have blown, but it won't hold them back for long."

"The exfil chopper is on its way, but it's in a damn hurry." Ghost interjected, his rifle already firmly in both hands. "We need to move.  _Now_."

"Looks like we're going to have to fight our way to the LZ. Drop any kit that's going to slow you down." MacTavish nodded quickly as he too unslung his rifle. Behind him he could hear a rabble of voices, the yells becoming steadily clearer the closer they got.

"What about Rojas?" Riley asked as they started to move, almost as an after thought.

MacTavish froze, allowing his eyes to settle on Rojas one last time. He could see the panic as it started to set in through his eyes, their very nature pleading as they met with his own. Alex the Red was no fool, and he knew that the militia was coming for him just as much as it was coming for them. Without a smile, or any hint of enjoyment present in his voice, MacTavish spoke again.

"The streets'll take care of him."

* * *

It was just like the Tian Shan Mountains. Except this time, MacTavish  _didn't_  catch him.

They'd fought their way through the streets, three men against an unrelenting militia. The odds were stacked against them; their enemies knew the terrain well and seemed to be around each and every corner. They'd attempted to avoid conflict as much as they could, but sneaking through a favela filled with enemies was an impossible task, every single street corner threatening to pin them down and waste valuable time that they simply didn't have. The only saving grace was that the men they were fighting were badly trained, their movements rash and miscalculated. Without that single edge, all three of them would have been dead in mere minutes.

They'd reached the LZ in time, but the area had been swarming with militia and the chopper had been forced to turn back. In desperation, they made for the roof tops, hoping that the change in direction would buy them enough time to get out before they became over run as well.

It was there where Roach had met his downfall,  _literally_. He'd jumped, but he'd misjudged the distance, his gloved hands slipping on the corrugated tin as he'd attempted to hold on. He'd felt himself slide backwards helplessly, seen MacTavish leap out to grab for him, just as he had in the Tian Shan Mountains. And then, he fell.

" _Roach! Roach! Wake up!"_ His vision was dark, but MacTavish's voice ringing in his ears at least told Gary that he wasn't  _dead_. He grunted, attempting to open his eyes. A shallow breath inwards was cut short as a shooting pain shot through his abdomen, his vision suddenly filled with blue sky. This told him two important things; he was lying on his back, and he had at least bruised his ribs, if not broken some of them.

" _Roach! We can see them from the chopper!"_  Ghost's voice was the next to assault his ears, and the panic it possessed caused Gary to attempt to right himself, his body slowly flipping over so that he was kneeling on all fours. He hissed as another breath assaulted his ribs. A flicker of movement caught his eye and Roach looked to his right, his eyes suddenly widening at the sight. He could see the shadows of the militia projected onto the side of one of the huts.  _"They're coming for you, dozens of 'em!"_  Roach looked to his left, his hands gripping the wall of the nearest hut in order to steady himself. Through his blurred vision he could see the militia looking down from the rooftops and into the street. He was surrounded.

_**Shit.** _

" _Roach! There's too many of them! Get the hell out of there and find a way to the rooftops! Move!"_ MacTavish again, his words as frenzied as Gary felt.

When a burst of AK fire made the dust just in front of where he was standing fly into the air, Roach didn't need telling twice.

He sprinted forwards, his legs kicking up at first, all disorientated and out of synch. His arms pumping at his sides, Roach made for the hut opposite running through the kitchen and into the brick corridor beyond. As he cleared the corner into the living room, a burst of fire sprayed up the wall in front above his head, the bullets hammering into the plaster and tearing down the picture frames with a loud clatter. They were already too close and Gary used the adrenaline boost to his advantage, pushing harder off the ground and sprinting for the next room.

The place felt like a labyrinth, but at least the corners gave him a little cover from the bullets that seemed to be following him as he ran. As he made it out into the street, Roach made for an alleyway dead ahead, his feet almost tripping down the steep steps that felt as though they had come out of nowhere. Civilians were dashing around frantically in front of him and Roach had to try hard not to collide with them as they cut across him in the alleyway, their heads down as they frantically ran for cover.

For a split second, Roach thought that he'd run straight into a dead end, his heart hammering in his chest, but a quick survey of the area showed him a door to his right, leading to another empty building, this time with a set of stairs. Roach made for them desperately, just in time to see some of the militia run into the building below him. They raised their guns to fire but their aim was off, and as Roach leapt for the next storey their bullets merely hit the stairs, sending splinters of wood flying everywhere.

There was an open door, bright light bursting through it and Roach sprinted for it, his breaths shallow and agonising thanks to his ribs. Once outside, he could see the militia on the rooftops parallel to him in his peripheral vision, the thunder of AK fire never far behind. He jumped down onto the corrugated tin roofs below, fully realising that now the only things that would save him were luck and the speed at which he could propel himself across the rooftops.

" _Roach! I see you! You need to meet us south of your position! Go!"_  Soap's voice was screaming into his ear drums and yet Roach wasn't sure how he was supposed to have the time to worry about which direction he was headed in. Over head he could hear the constant beating of helicopter rotor blades and he tried to follow the sound as much as possible, his body bearing right as it followed the rooftops.

" _We're running on fumes here! You've got thirty seconds! Run!"_ As if he wasn't panicking enough, Gary tried to push Soap's voice out of his head, his mind constantly focused on the next twenty metres and nothing more. He could hear the militia closing in behind him, a bullet to the back almost feeling inevitable now as he took a sharp left and jumped down again, the helicopter fluttering around in the corner of his eye to his right. The militia were directly above him now, their bullets pinging off the tin roofs and throwing up dust and fragments of plaster from the nearby walls. Another sharp right sent Roach face to face with even more militia above him and he instinctively retracted his head into his neck, hoping that it might make the difference between life and death. Their bullets didn't hit home and before he knew it, Roach was suddenly taking another right, his feet disappearing from out below him as he fell again.

" _Come on!"_

He hit the sloped roof heavily, shock waves from the impact shooting up his spine. Whether he wanted to or not, he was sliding down the slope, a large glass window suddenly appearing in front of his vision. He barely had the time to shield his face with his hands before he crashed through it, rolling out onto the cement floor amongst a flurry of broken glass. Up in front he could see what looked to be a balcony and the exfil helicopter hovering beyond that. With what was left of his strength, Roach hauled himself up off the floor, ignoring the glass that stabbed into his palms and knees and sprinted for the chopper.

" _Jump for it!"_

What came next was almost in slow motion. He could feel his heart racing beneath his ribcage, could practically hear his frantic breaths wheezing in his ears. There was a rope ladder hanging from the helicopter and he could see MacTavish waving to him, his eyes not fixed on Roach, but forever looking at what was behind him. He was running out of balcony fast and every reflex in Gary's body told him to stop before he reached the precipice, but he pushed them all aside and ran harder. When his legs finally did kick off into thin air, his arms outstretched, Roach finally let himself wonder what might happen if he had cut this jump too short, just like he had done only minutes before.

" _We've got him! Get us out of here!"_

The bar of the ladder was almost unexpected when it appeared beneath his left hand, but Gary closed his fist instantly, bringing his right hand up too and clinging on for dear life. The helicopter lurched upwards and Roach knew better than to start climbing straight away, his fingers flexing as he readjusted his grip. The green hills that surrounded Rio blurred past his vision as the chopper moved and Roach closed his eyes, a deep breath sending agonising waves through the entirety of his body. It was a painful reminder that the adrenaline in his body would soon wear off and he needed to be safely inside the helicopter before he started to feel the full effects of his injuries.

"You  _lucky_ bastard..." Just as his own strength started to fail, Roach felt his body be hoisted up by Ghost, the familiar skull mask flickering briefly in front of his vision. It was the first time in a long while that he could remember the lieutenant's voice sounding so relieved.

"Are you hit?" MacTavish was sat directly opposite him, a fleeting smile breaking across his features. He continued to watch as Ghost guided Roach to his seat, his palm a constant presence on Roach's back.

"No, sir." Gary shook his head, still painfully breathless. He looked up at the Captain and smiled weakly, a soft laugh escaping his lips. "My ribs are cracked to hell and my knees are all torn up, but somehow I managed  _not_  to take a bullet."

"I never expected any less of _Roach_..." The Captain smiled a little more at his own joke. "First job when we get back to the FOB is getting you patched up. Shepherd can wait for his sodding debrief."

"I hear that." Roach nodded, leaning back in his seat in an effort to try and make himself more comfortable. It didn't work. "Just remind me never to vacation in Rio. I don't want to see this hell-hole again for as long as I live."

"Too right, Roach." MacTavish nodded, his eyes staring out into space. "Too fucking  _right_."

* * *

Military bases, or at least military barracks were not known to be quiet places. And yet somehow, with the loss of two characters who had only ever been larger than life, the 141's base had become a ghost town.

Their time at the FOB had been fleeting, just long enough for Roach to be patched up by the base's medics and for their orders to come down from Shepherd. When they had, they'd been very clear. They were to make their way back to base immediately.

However, when they did get back to the States, the 141 was bound by an honour code even stricter than that of Shepherd's.

No man needed telling twice what was expected of him. As soon as the group from Brazil returned to base, everyone, whether they were soldiers, medics or from the armoury migrated to the rec room out of silent instinct. It was a solemn walk that each and every one of them had done countless times before and yet still dreaded ever having to do again.

The light in the base was dim, the sun long since past the brow of the faraway hills as night closed in fast. The rec room was in greyscale but no one moved to turn on a light. A pair of Meat's sweatpants were still hung over one of the couches and yet no one thought to move them, each man instead taking an empty glass or mug from the kitchen and finding himself a seat. The scotch was next, retrieved by Ghost and then passed to each person in turn to fill their glass. When the bottle finally reached Lara, the medic found herself craving the sickly sweet beer that Royce had always been so keen to force down everyone else's throat.

"To absent friends."

It was the same routine as her first night with the 141, except this time two measures of whisky were poured ceremoniously to the floor by MacTavish. Back then she'd been an outsider, stood on the sidelines and watching the men and their strange ritual. It had been the first time that she'd realised the realities of what is was to be a member of the 141 and share such an intense, almost brotherly bond with the men fighting next to you. At the time, she'd nodded her head along with them, muttered the words and tried to mean them out of respect for her predecessor, but all the while Lara's thoughts had been focused on the friend that _she'd_  lost, on her own personal grief. On Richards, the best friend who had been torn from her all too soon.

Now, everything was different. Meat's blood still stained her shirt, the fabric now lying crumpled in a heap on the floor of the CASEVAC helicopter where she'd thrown it away in angered disgust. Traces of Royce's blood were still trapped beneath her fingernails from when she'd helped carry him to the exfil point, the soap at the FOB doing a poor job of cleaning away such a bitter reminder. Unlike Chemo, these men had been her  _brothers_. Meat, the cunning linguist who had driven her to what felt like the very brink of her sanity on more than one occasion and Royce, the man tired of soldiering who spent countless hours secretly willing his tour to end so that he could go back home to his wife. The feeling that all that had been stripped from both men in seconds, along with so much more, forced a hard lump to create an almost choking presence at the back of Lara's throat.

There were half hearted conversations and heavy laughs, ancient stories and anecdotes thrown around the room like comforters. Some men voiced their need for vengeance, others were simply more concerned with the number of rounds left in Greg and Royce's magazines; at least taking solace in the fact that they had managed to go down defending themselves. There was the occasional comment about how Royce had been fortunate with a quick, painless death and yet at the same time no one seemed brave enough to quiz either Lara or Roach on how long it had taken Meat to succumb to his wounds. There were some things that were just better off  _not_ known.

The only thing these short lived conversations had in common was that each and every one was punctuated with long pauses. Lara couldn't help but feel that these silences were by rights where Meat or Royce should have interjected with some smart mouthed comment.

In short, the atmosphere was completely unbearable.

She needed to breathe and so she'd made her excuses and left, walking out of the rec room as quickly as she could without arousing any suspicion. Outside, it was only becoming darker as twilight drew in. The cool air seemed to assault her skin, her face suddenly feeling damp and chilled. Lara lifted a curious hand to her face. The water she found on her cheeks wasn't the cold sweat that she'd been expecting, but the tears that she'd been too numb to realise were seeping from her eyes.

Wrong footed, Lara wavered, her hand still clasped to her face. More tears were coming now, as if the realisation alone had given her body the permission to release all the pent up emotion locked away deep within it. The sensation scared her, made her feel weak, vulnerable and pathetic with every volley of emotion that rocketed through her system.

She was running, her feet bouncing off the tarmac with a determined kind of intensity. Small beads of sweat mingled with the water already present on her skin. Lara spurred herself on faster, her arms flailing at her sides, a searing pain beginning to stab up the length of her shins as her boots hit the ground too hard with each and every long stride. The base was by no means limitless, but right then all that mattered was putting as much distance between herself and the other men as physically possible.

There was a grassy embankment out towards the southern perimeter fence, tucked away behind all the base's buildings. Amongst the men it was known as 'Contemplation Hill' and was regularly a spot where the soldiers would escape with the satellite phone to if they needed guaranteed privacy when speaking to their families. In the past, Meat had often joked about Royce sneaking off there for a session of crafty phone sex with his wife. In the back of her thoughts as she ran, Lara struggled to accept that that was going to be a joke she'd never roll her eyes at ever again.

She reached a cluster of small, sparse trees on the embankment and Lara found herself sliding down one of the trunks exhausted, gathering her knees up underneath her chin. Rough bark scratched at the backs of her bare arms and the rigid armour across her knees dug into her legs. The dull pain irritated her further and she quickly unfastened the knee pads, throwing them away from her body as though they were poison. In the process, Lara caught sight of the flecks of blood still spread across her combat trousers, the once red stains now more of a deep, ominous dark brown. The sight only forced more tears to leak silently from her eyes. Open, loud sobs were a rarity for her and yet McCoy still fought to stop this quiet, bitter release of emotion. After all, she wanted to be strong, to honour the men she felt she'd failed, not to be some snivelling  _woman_ sat alone in the dark. The reality however, was completely different.

She didn't know how much time she'd spent sitting there lost amongst a jumble of thoughts. Her mind seemed to jump erratically from memory to memory, the smile Royce always had when he spoke of Karen suddenly morphing into a replay of Meat's death, a flurry of unhealthy 'what ifs' that might somehow have saved his life. It was dangerous to think like that, her experience as a medic had taught her that all too well, and yet it was still unavoidable human nature. She needed someone to blame and right then there was only herself.

"You'll catch your death out here." The sudden voice above her made Lara flinch, but in reality she should have expected it. There was no way in hell that MacTavish would miss her leaving the rec room and not follow her eventually. Either way, she didn't dare look up at him, terrified that he might see the tears in her eyes. Instead there was simply a pause until she became aware of him sitting beside her. For a long while neither of them spoke, a difficult, stiff silence building up between them.

"Greg was three months older than me." Lara said softly, more to herself than to MacTavish. She didn't look at him, she  _couldn't_ , so instead she tightened her grip on her legs and brought her head closer to her knees. "Royce had Karen, their baby too." Another lump was forming in her throat, but she fought hard to push it back. "It's so  _fucking_  unfair."

"They both knew the risks… we all do."

"And that makes it ok, does it?" Lara snapped all too easily.

"No, it doesn't." The Captain shook his head, choosing to look straight ahead rather than directly at her. He exhaled loudly, as though he had been holding the breath back for an age before continuing. "… When I lost my first man, I told myself  _never again_. But it doesn't work that way. It's out of our control. It's  _never_  going to be fair."

"Do you think that I don't know that?" She scoffed. "I'm sick of just  _accepting_  this."

"Then give up soldiering. Death is just a part of who we are. You know that just as well as the rest of us." He shrugged blankly into the gloom, the air punctuated by yet another long, drawn out silence. For a moment, Lara wondered if MacTavish was about to leave, until she saw him turn to her in her peripheral vision, his eyes suddenly burning into her skin. " _Lara_. It's not your fault."

"Oh yeah?" McCoy let out a dark laugh. "And how do you know that's what I'm thinking?"

"Because I'm sat here blaming myself too." MacTavish replied bluntly, his voice almost strangely matter of fact. "And I know that there's nothing either of us can say to change that. But…" He sighed, his left hand rubbing at the back of his neck. "We've got to at least try, right?"

"You weren't there. I was too slow. One second faster and Greg would never have been hit. Not only that but then Royce wouldn't have slipped up trying to save him." She brought up her hands, her fingers cradling her scalp."I can't get Greg's face out of my head... Every time I close my eyes..." She bit her lip, blinking hard and trying to banish the thoughts that came along with the action. "He was in so much fucking  _pain_..."

"He died thinking that you'd save him."

"That makes it so much worse."

"It  _doesn't_." MacTavish paused, his eyes still burning into her, even if Lara felt unable to return his gaze. "When I took that bullet, I was convinced that it was game over. But knowing that there was someone there, that someone was at least  _trying_..." He shrugged. "Better that then to just lie there alone and scared shitless."

"There was nothing I could do... I keep replaying it over and over in my head. I know that I did everything that I could have. But it still makes no fucking  _difference_."

"And you know as well as I do that it's too late for that, Lara. It's never going to make a difference. Not now."

"Don't patronise me." Lara spat a little too bitterly. "I  _know_  they're gone. I  _know_ that there's nothing I can do to bring either of them back. But knowing that doesn't make anything any easier either. I'm not like you."

"Easy?" Soap's voice possessed a dark, amused quality. "Do you honestly think that I'm finding this any  _easier_  than you?" He didn't give her the chance to reply. "I lost two good men out there today and the best I could do was make sure that the mission didn't fall flat on its arse because of it. I was  _there_  for officer training. I remember everything they shove down your neck when they prepare you for command, all the speeches they give you about how an operation can be a success, even when men die. But the intel we got today is never going to challenge me to a drinking contest like Meat, or sit and talk some sense into me like Royce." He paused, the sudden break in speech a sure sign that MacTavish had chosen to cut himself off prematurely. When he spoke again, his voice was much quieter. "I lost them  _too_ , Lara."

McCoy felt as though she should speak, or at the very least apologise but the words seemed to escape her, silence returning to them both as they stared back into space. Tears continued to leak from her eyes and this time Bones let them slide past her cheeks, unwilling to draw attention to the fact she was crying by attempting to wipe them away. Beside her she heard Soap sniff.

Without a word, an arm slid around her shoulders, its presence warm yet unexpected. Every muscle in Lara's back jumped at the touch, her body freezing. A large part of her wanted to retreat into the physical contact, but she felt unable to, especially after her last, bitter outburst. For a few moments there was nothing more until Soap gently pulled her closer himself.

"I don't need a shoulder to cry on." Lara said slowly, her tone resolute. Although she appreciated the comfort, she had no desire to appear weak, even in front of MacTavish.

"Then maybe I do." There was something in Soap's voice that made her look upwards, her eyes instantly meeting his. They were watery, pained, the rest of his features as drawn and weary as she'd ever seen them. Suddenly Lara became all too aware of just how torn up inside the Captain was feeling, ashamed to have been so selfishly locked up within her own emotions. It was just like he had said before. He'd lost his friends just as much as she had, and yet up until then McCoy had been content to wallow in her own self pity and anguish, without once thinking that she might not be the only one who needed comforting.

" _John…_ " The word escaped her mouth before she had thought of anything else to follow it.

"I can't feel alone like this." MacTavish said bluntly, shaking his head. She'd never heard his voice be so weak, his tone defeated. He swallowed hard, keeping eye contact with her all the while. The pain she saw in his eyes felt like a mirror image of her own. "Not tonight."

When she'd imagined this moment, it had never been like this. Back then it had been about MacTavish finally coming to his senses, or the two of them just giving in to temptation and falling into bed amidst a whirl of frenzied movement and rough, passionate kisses.

But as Lara raised her hands and pulled his face slowly down to hers, it was anything but passionate. The lips she met were unsure, her own mouth tentative as it pressed against MacTavish's. Warmth immediately flooded her system and yet Lara dared not push for more, the back of her mind filled with thoughts of how this was about comfort, about succumbing to the loneliness that both their roles seemed to induce. The deeper emotions that had been an ever present undercurrent between them would simply have to wait.

A pair of hands slipped around her waist and Soap softened against her, his head tilting to the left to deepen the kiss. The action gave Lara the encouragement she needed and she pressed closer to him, opening her mouth in the process. Her hands slid down to rest on his shoulders, her thumbs absently stroking against the thick ridge of his collar bones beneath his shirt. Soap's responded almost immediately, his grip on her tight as though he was afraid that she'd pull away. His right hand snaked up from her hip, sprawling across her lower back and pulling her closer still.

They fell back on instinct, Lara lying half on top of MacTavish, their mouths still pressed together the whole while, the kisses slow and languid. There was no need to make them more as that night on the embankment wasn't about sex. It was about something more intricate, where the warm body of someone you cared for was all that was needed. What was important now wasn't a simple, base kind of need, but rather another person to cling to who would understand, even when words had failed you both.

They broke the kiss for air, but instead of the apologies or justifications she was expecting, Lara received none. Instead MacTavish merely leaned back further into the grass, holding her close to his chest. Neither of them spoke and yet the embrace never became awkward, Soap's hand rubbing soft circles into Lara's right shoulder. The faint damp of dew seeped through her clothes and yet McCoy paid it little attention, vaguely aware of the soft kiss that was chastely pressed to the top of her head.

"We should move." She'd lost track of how long they'd been lying there, but MacTavish's words made Lara realise just how close she'd come to almost falling asleep on him. The arms around her tensed slightly. "You're shaking."

"I'm just a little cold, it's nothing." Sitting up in a single fluid motion, Lara chose to keep her eyes forward, rather than looking back at MacTavish. She rubbed at her arms in an attempt to create some warmth. "How long have we been out here?"

"I'd rather not know." MacTavish attempted a soft laugh, but it fell flat. He sat up too, his hand graduating to Lara's back. His palm moved so that it sat in the middle of her shoulder blades, his thumb stroking idle patterns into her t shirt. He tilted his head to one side, waiting for her to finally turn and look at him. "Lara?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry." He bit his lip, his eyes flickering between her lips and her eyes. "I've owed you that apology for a long time."

"I'm not sure I understand..."

"You do." Sighing, MacTavish ran a hand across the top of his head, his face momentarily looking lost. "I push people away, Lara. I always have done. My parents, my sister, hell even Price. But you?" He gave her a weak smile. "I've pushed you away more than most."

"With good reason."

" _Maybe._ " He shrugged, an abrupt sigh escaping his lips. "And maybe life's too fucking short after all." He watched her for a moment, long enough for Lara to wonder if he was expecting her to say something. In the end, he carried on speaking regardless. "I just... I don't want to die with regrets. I want to look back and remember everything I got right, not everything I did wrong. If anything, today has reminded me of that."

"Then what are you saying?"

"That I'm the biggest mindfuck on the planet." He said bluntly. "And that I don't really know what I'm saying here. But I know what I'm  _not_ saying. And if I ever did or said anything to make you feel as though I didn't give a shit about you...  _well_... I guess that could be classed as something that I did  _very_  wrong."

"Do you want to know what I think?" Lara said in the calmest voice she could muster, although beneath it all her thoughts were racing through her brain at breakneck speed.

" _Yes._ "

"I think we both need sleep, a shit load of it too." She pushed a kind smile out across her features. "Neither of us are in a fit state to talk about this now, John."

"Maybe you're right."

"I think you _know_ I am." In an attempt to prove her point further, Lara stood up quickly, her hands automatically dusting down her combats in the process. She turned to MacTavish, offering him her hand. "Come on. For once you can actually  _listen_ to what your medic tells you."

* * *

Later, alone and in her shower, her head surrounded by the white noise of rushing water, Lara finally found some kind of peace. It was by no means perfect, the ghosts of Meat and Royce still alive and well in her thoughts, the memory of them still a dull ache that could never truly be numbed. Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe it was just the knowledge that the rest of the 141 were feeling the exact same emotions that continued to rocket through her system, but whatever the reason, there was no denying the feeling of calm that had begun to soothe her fraught emotions.

It was late already and as Lara tore herself away from the warmth of the shower, she was more than aware that in no time at all, the cold light of morning would be upon her. With it, there would be questions to face, uncertainties to voice, as well as the prospect of her first ever training session without Royce and Meat's competitive remarks making up its soundtrack.

But for now all of that was a world away. As she eased a baggy t shirt over her head and clambered into bed, Lara tried hard not to think of the future and to dwell only in the present. To think of sleep, the only thing that felt as though it had the power to silence her thoughts. As she turned off the light and fell back against her pillow, Lara silently hoped that the ghosts that haunted her would grant her this one night of peace before dawn brought with it a heavy dose of reality.

 


	25. Walking Wounded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

" __ **Can you lie next to her**  
and give her your heart, your heart?  
As well as your body  
And can you lie next to her  
and confess your love, your love?  
As well as your folly"

White Blank Page - Mumford & Sons

* * *

_A woman dressed in a blue sun dress was grinning candidly, as though she'd been caught mid laugh. Her grey eyes were wide open and alive, a curled mass of light brown hair framing her features. She was running towards the camera with one hand outstretched, as though she intended to snatch it right out of the photographer's hand. Behind her, late afternoon sun was hitting the suburban street head on, the tall, shady trees crowned with a light green glow._

Karen. There was something about staring at the photograph for a little too long that made him feel wrong and in an instant the worn picture fell from Riley's finger tips and back onto Royce's bed. It lay there, staring up at him blankly, the woman's eyes locked in the same, euphoric expression. Except this time, there was something more pained and saddened there. As though she was reaching out to hold something that she always knew that she'd lose.

Ghost quickly averted his gaze. No matter what kind of reality you inhabited, be it a military or a civilian one, one thing would  _never_  change. Somehow, your lover would always leave.

"I had a feeling that I'd find you here." There was a voice from the doorway, but Riley didn't bother turning round, instantly recognising MacTavish's voice. Instead he continued to pack Royce's books meticulously into the cardboard box sitting on the bed.

"I wanted to do one last thing for Alex." The name instantly felt foreign on his tongue and yet at the same time, it felt necessary. Even on the base, Royce was rarely referred to by his first name and yet his call sign seemed to stick in Ghost's throat now that he was gone. He stacked another two books into the box. "Funny, really. He always said that this would be Greg's job."

"I just finished boxing up his things." MacTavish continued, his voice possessing the blank quality that Ghost instantly recognised as an attempt to mask his true emotions. He allowed himself a small, if self-conscious laugh. "There was a fair amount that his parents wouldn't have wanted to see."

"That was Greg." Riley nodded, retorting with a laugh of his own, out of politeness more than anything else. He turned around slowly. "I haven't even started on his CDs yet…" He glanced over to them quickly, the gesture a silent question. He knew that he had no real authority over whether MacTavish stayed to help him or not, but he still felt as though he should offer.

" _Yeah_ …" Soap headed for the CDs immediately, grabbing a box in the process. He placed it down on the floor in front of Royce's CDs, lowering himself to his knees so that he could start piling them carefully into the box. They fell into silence almost immediately, the only noise being that of the occasional clink of plastic as the CDs clashed together.

" _Shit…_ " MacTavish let out a soft laugh, causing Ghost to turn around. He held up a CD towards the lieutenant and smiled. "Remember this?"

"The music that nearly got Alex killed?" Ghost shook his head despairingly. He remembered it well, some god awful, synth filled 90s party album that Royce had dared play during Toad's birthday festivities. The drunken sniper had not been impressed to say the least. "I thought Chris snapped that thing in half?"

"He did." MacTavish opened the case in demonstration, the CD itself nowhere to be seen inside. "But you know Royce. Could never throw anything away."

"Too fucking right. It got to the point where I refused to be seen with 'im in that hideous yellow shirt."

"I think Greg threatened to burn that one himself." Soap laughed. "Along with all the shitty beer..."

"It won't be the same." The words slipped from his lips before he could really stop them and Riley regretted letting his guard down almost immediately. For the first time, he met MacTavish's gaze properly, the Captain looking at him expectantly. "I know we always say that… But with them both gone… It's just going to be even more fucked up around here."

"I know. I just hope the price they paid was worth the intel we got from Rojas."

" _Rojas_ …" The lieutenant paused, taking time to run his tongue across his teeth, his eyes pensive. "You made the right call. Leaving him like that."

" _Did I?_ " MacTavish laughed darkly, rocking back on his heels. "What I did made me no better than him, mate."

"That son of a bitch helped Makarov slaughter hundreds of civilians. It was the bastards on his payroll that took out Greg and Alex. He isn't the kind of guy for you to start developing a conscience about."

"But Rojas was  _detached_. He didn't give a shit about what happened to his guns." MacTavish shrugged. "I don't know about you, but I couldn't do what I did back there without being the same kind of devil myself."

"You forget who you're talking to, mate? I don't think I really remember what remorse and empathy even are anymore." He tried to make it sound flippant, but in reality Riley's words left his mouth bitter and frustrated. For the first time in months, the bitterness was directed more at himself then it was at MacTavish, although he was in no hurry to admit that to anyone else but himself.

"Oh yeah?" John laughed. He turned round, fixing Riley with a piercing stare that he didn't appreciate. "Answer me something then."

"What?"

"If you're so broken and cold inside then why the hell did I find you in a dead man's room?" Standing up slowly, MacTavish walked over to where Ghost was still stood by Royce's bed. He nodded towards the boxes lined up on the mattress, each one as neatly packed as the other before turning back to Simon. "Alex meant a lot to us. Greg too. If they hadn't then we wouldn't have left Rojas in the state we did. And it's so bloody hypocritical when you think about it... How we can just switch off emotions like that. But my point is that it's not  _just_ you. We're all capable of it, me included. If anything, I proved that with Rojas."

"In a pep talk kind of mood, eh?" Ghost rolled his eyes, although a small smile did creep across his features unchecked. The rest of the task force might have found him an enigma but more often than not Riley could read the Captain, no his  _friend_ , better than most. Right now, with his words striving to find some common ground between them, was the closest MacTavish would ever come to an apology, or at very least a  _ceasefire._  In truth, Riley had by no means forgotten any of the shit that MacTavish had thrown in his direction over the past few months, but with Bones out of his life Simon also appreciated the fact that he needed some kind of human touchstone somewhere. Besides, despite the bullshit between them, there was no denying MacTavish's loyalty to him, or the way that he still fully regarded him as his partner when they were out in the field despite their differences.

"Is it working?"

"No, but why change the habit of a lifetime?" Riley shook his head. "You're damn lucky that you know how to shoot. No one's ever followed you into hell because of your speeches, mate."

"Yeah well, I guess I've had some good luck along the way too." MacTavish's eyes settled on Royce's bed, to the picture that still lay flat against the sheets. He picked it up, holding it delicately in his hands. " _Karen_ …" He sighed, tucking the photo into one of Royce's books to prevent it from being creased. "It's killing me that all we're sending her are a pile of cardboard boxes."

"I guess it's what we all are in the end; paper and red tape?"

"Maybe. But as long as you remember the people you care about, as long as  _they_  remember you… I guess that's the best you can ask for. Karen at least has some stories to tell their kid. It's not going to replace Royce as a father, but that child can grow up proud of what his dad did. Of  _who_  he was. That's worth a lot more than bits of paper and red tape if you ask me."

"Yeah…" He didn't ask for it, but a vivid image of Joseph suddenly flooded past Riley's mind's eye, his arms outstretched like an aeroplane as his dad spun him through the air. He flinched, attempting to shake the memories loose. Sometimes knowing that he was the only one keeping their memories alive both overwhelmed and saved him. "At least Alex got that bit right." He scratched the back of his head; quickly turning his attention back to what little remained of Royce's possessions. "I think I'm done here."

"I can finish up with what's left." MacTavish seemed to sense his discomfort and he automatically took a step backwards, almost as though he was trying to give the lieutenant some space to breathe. "I think Trojan is still skulking around here somewhere. I'm going to track him down and see if we can't get Meat and Royce's stuff sent home any quicker."

"If anyone's going to pull strings with Shepherd then it's his prized pet, right?"

"That's my plan."

"I'm going to check up on the rec room. Last I heard, some of the lads were having a bit of a bitch in there about the last op. Doubt me being there will stop them bitching, but at least they'll do it  _quieter_  with me around."

"I appreciate it, Riley." The Captain smiled, something that Simon took as a sign that he was free to leave. He turned his back, managing about three strides to the door before MacTavish called after him. "Simon?"

"Yeah?"

"Take this to the rec room with you?" John tossed a clump of fabric in his general direction and Ghost caught it. The shirt was instantly recognisable, the bright yellow one that he'd joked about burning earlier.

"Umm…?"

"I remember Royce saying that Karen hated it anyway." The Captain shrugged. "I figure we're allowed to keep something to help us remember him too. Hang it up over by the sound system maybe? He spent enough time over there playing DJ."

"Yeah." Ghost nodded, his grip tightening around the fabric. "Alex would've liked that."

* * *

As it was, Trojan didn't prove all that difficult for MacTavish to find.

He'd gotten back to his office to find an email from the man himself, requesting a meeting in the ops room later that morning. It was rare and vague just like every piece of correspondence Soap received from the spook, reading less like a request and more like an order. Although Trojan wasn't of a higher rank than himself, MacTavish had learnt that making an enemy out of his only real Shadow Company contact was a mistake long ago and as a result he felt obliged to humour him. Even so, a meeting with Trojan rather than Shepherd himself always brought with it an ominous feeling that the Captain didn't quite trust.

"MacTavish…" The smile on Trojan's face as the Captain entered the ops room was merely a formality. "I was beginning to think that you weren't planning on showing up."

"It's been a busy morning." Although he was hardly late, Soap had made no real effort to turn up early for their meeting. He gave Trojan a begrudging nod. "I don't think I need to remind you that I lost two of my men two days ago."

"General Shepherd sends his sympathies. Meat and Royce were bloody good operatives." The call signs left his lips with such ease that MacTavish fought to control irritation from flooding his features. As far as he was concerned, Trojan had no right to call them by anything but their first names. He hadn't  _earned_  it. "They'll be missed, I'm sure."

"An understatement to say the least. Their things are packed up and ready to go. I was hoping that we might be able to get them sent back a little faster than usual. Royce's wife is pregnant and-"

"I appreciate the sentiment, but there are proper channels for this, Captain." Trojan's voice was painfully indifferent.

"I know, but even so-"

"Neither of us are new to this. We both know that special treatment doesn't work well within the military." He watched MacTavish's features closely for a moment, his eyes pensive. "But I'll mention it to the General. I just wouldn't expect miracles." Almost as though he was physically drawing the conversation to a close, Trojan's attention shifted down to the table, retrieving a manila folder from the polished surface. He pulled out what looked to be a report, flicking through it quickly. "Either way, I'm here to talk about the intel your team retrieved from Brazil." He wafted the folder in MacTavish's general direction. "The notes from your debrief."

"I've already reported anything of interest." MacTavish said blankly, his hands tucked behind his back. "Faust gave us very little. Rojas himself didn't know all that much, even when we really pushed him. But he gave us the name of this prisoner 627 which as far as I can see is the only direct link we actually  _have_  to Makarov."

"627… yes." Trojan nodded bluntly, tapping at another file on the table. "Rojas mentioned a place called  _Petrapav_ , correct?" He waited for MacTavish to nod. "The closest match we were able to find was  _Petropavlovsk_ _-Kamchatsky;_ a city in eastern Russia. It's home to the Russian Navy's largest submarine base. But what we think Rojas was referring to is  _this_ …" He pointed to a small map with his fore finger. "Forty miles outside of the city; a Russian gulag. It's the only place fitting your intel within the area."

"So that must be where they're holding this prisoner."

"According to Rojas, yes." Trojan looked sceptical. "But right now the Russians aren't in a particularly cooperative mood. Finding out whether or not Rojas' intel checks out is nigh on impossible with relations as they are. Besides, even if we were able, there's nothing to say that there are any extensive records on who is being kept in this gulag and who isn't. From what little we know, it looks to be a 'throw away the key' kind of place."

"Then maybe it's about time we shared what we know with the Russians." MacTavish fixed Trojan with a determined stare. "Show them what we are trying to do and see if they're are more likely to cooperate then."

"Don't be so naïve, Captain. The US Government is in no position to show its hand, nor does it want to." The spook shook his head. "Besides, even with the intel we have nothing says that the Russian Government will actually  _listen_  to it."

"So what are you saying, Kevin? Because right now I don't see how we can go in there and extract 627 on all this sketchy intel and speculation."

"That's  _exactly_  what I'm saying, MacTavish." Trojan closed the two folders quickly. "With things as they are there's no further action that the General plans to take."

"That's bollocks." The Captain spat bluntly. "This is our  _only_ lead to Makarov..."

"And diplomatic relations between the US and Russia are strained to breaking point." Trojan let out a dark laugh, little more than a scoff. "The Americans aren't going to authorise a black op on a Russian soil right now,  _whatever_  the goal."

"The 141 are  _not_  an American task force…"

"No, but they are led by an American General." Trojan shook his head. "I'm sorry, MacTavish. But there is no way in hell the General will risk World War Three over some associate of Makarov's." He paused. "I doubt he would take that risk for Makarov  _himself_."

"So what? We sit around and wait for the diplomats to finish playing nice with each other?" MacTavish was having trouble keeping his anger in check now. "Makarov is still out there planning god knows what. All this slow diplomacy is doing is buying him even  _more_  time."

"All this  _slow_  diplomacy is doing is trying to stop a conflict on a scale that we haven't seen in nearly eighty years." Trojan warned, his voice still remaining flat and monotone. "What happened in Moscow changed  _everything_."

"And with respect, two of my men  _died_  for this intel." MacTavish took a step forwards, advancing on the other man. "They'd didn't give their lives just for it to sit on some computer somewhere waiting to become  _useful_!"

"I realise that you have a personal stake in this, MacTavish. But even so, you must realise that what you're asking just isn't  _possible_  right now." Trojan's eyes gave away his frustration but he held his ground, attempting to keep his voice calm at least. "Nothing you or anyone else can do right now is going to change this. I know that it's not how you like to operate but these are the cards you've been dealt by Shepherd  _himself_."

Soap felt as though he'd been kicked in the stomach. With all of his arguing he'd forgotten that although Trojan was the one he was raising his voice to, the orders themselves were from someone far superior to him. The realisation was a bitter and altogether painful one. Even with all of the best will in the world, General Shepherd was his commanding officer. Challenging his authority was not something to be done lightly, especially when it threatened his own authority and professionalism.

"… Orders  _are_  orders." MacTavish finally forced the words from his mouth, his shoulders hunching as though the act had consumed every bit of his self-restraint. He clenched his teeth to stop himself from speaking further, taking a deliberate step backwards to show his subjugation. The action alone felt as though it tore at everything he was.

" _If_ the situation changes, the General will be the first person out for Makarov's blood." Gathering the folders up underneath one arm, Trojan stepped around MacTavish purposefully. "We're all eager to put an end to this, Captain. But with politics as they are we have to be realists too."

"I'm more than aware of that."

"Then I know that you understand." Trojan nodded abruptly, his eyes searching MacTavish's for a split second. Hidden within them was an emotion that the Captain couldn't read, gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. When Trojan spoke again, his voice seemed that little bit more human. "We all appreciate the sacrifices your men made. The intel you recovered from Brazil won't sit around gathering dust forever. You can be certain of that."

" _Good_." Soap replied bluntly, his arms folded across his chest. "It shouldn't have to."

* * *

Daylight was supposed to make everything feel better. More alive, more  _positive_. But as McCoy stepped into the rec room that morning one thing had become blatantly obvious. Even in the light of day, the broken spirit of the 141 still needed time to heal.

Surprisingly she'd overslept, a deep sleep overcoming her exhausted sub conscious. She'd awoken naturally, the heavy nature of her sleep leaving her feeling neither fresh nor rested. She'd hauled herself out of bed and into her shower, hoping that cool water might somehow shake the fogginess that still clogged her thoughts.

Training had been cancelled the night before and the change in routine left her feeling disorientated. Her body craved more rest, her tired muscles straining as she pulled on clothes, her baggy grey vest top jammed carelessly into her fatigues. Her mind on the other hand wanted order; months of strict military routine making the sudden free time feel unwanted and alien. After all, it gave her far too much chance to  _think_. Quickly realising that now wasn't the time for her to be alone, Lara had headed for the rec room.

The atmosphere inside was unlike anything McCoy had experienced within the 141 before. It wasn't wholly quiet by any means, but even so the mood within the room struck her instantly as being 'off', somehow lacking the usual relaxed feeling that used to otherwise inhabit the barracks. Judging by the faces of every man around her, McCoy guessed that she wasn't the only one picking up on this subtle, if ominous tension.

It was almost like a kaleidoscope of human emotion, each man seemingly dealing with his grief in his own personal way. For some, that meant laughing and joking as though nothing had changed, the humour dark and their laughter somewhat overzealous. For others, it simply meant seclusion, clusters of men breaking often into smaller groups to share in quiet conversations or games of cards.

McCoy's gaze settled on the far left hand corner of the room, Ghost instantly recognisable. He was stood on a small stool, his back to her as he hammered a nail into the wall above the rec rooms sound system. No one else reacted to the sound. For a split second, she toyed the idea of going to speak with him around her head, her mind already skipping forwards and planning the exchange. For once, it wasn't because she felt that she  _should_  talk to Riley, more that she  _wanted_  to…

"You look just about as shit as I feel." Ozone's voice suddenly caught Lara's attention and she turned to her left, her mouth flicking up into an automatic, if awkward smile. The thoughts of her conversation with Riley were lost in seconds. "Couldn't sleep either?"

"The opposite, I've had too much. Feel as though I've been out for days." She attempted a small, if slightly stunted laugh. "I think it's the first time I've ever actually  _missed_ training."

"Now  _that's_  the 141 talking. I think 80% guys today have been down on the range or in the gym." He pursed his lips. "I guess none of us really know what to do with free time anymore, right?"

"Too right. Maybe I'd do better on the range myself."

"I doubt that." Ozone shook his head. "Archer's been holed up there pretty much all day. "Even Toad knows better than to bother him today." He waved his hand in Chris' general direction, the sniper stood over in the kitchen, visibly joking with Rook and Scarecrow.

"Cheers for the warning."

"Don't mention it. Although if you want to keep taking my advice, I'd go find Roach."

"Is he ok?"

"I'm not so sure; he wouldn't talk to me last night. Riley said something about them damn near being compromised back in the favela, but Gary just shut down on me." The Canadian shrugged. "He does that; I think he'd rather just bury his head in the sand than face up to shit sometimes. But either way, he was worried about you. We both saw you bolt last night."

"You did?" Lara bit her lip. Guilt washed over her like a wave. She'd never even stopped to think about Gary or Nick or any of the others. "I was fine… It all just got a bit…" She was struggling to find the words to describe the cocktail of emotions that had managed to finally get the better of her.

"Hey, you don't need to justify anything to me. It can get pretty intense in here and believe me, we've  _all_  been there." He smiled kindly. "But like I said, go find Gary. Even if you can't get him to open up it'll help him just knowing that you're ok."

"Maybe you're right. Thanks. Gary's lucky to have you watching his back."

"He's my best friend." Nick stated plainly. "He'd do the same for me in a heartbeat."

* * *

Despite the close relationship she and Roach shared, McCoy had only been in his room a couple of times. Mostly they met in the rec room or elsewhere on the base and when it came to their more private conversations they always seemed to graduate to the Infirmary and the safety of her quarters. Most of the time, Lara gave the arrangement very little thought.

But, as she stepped into Gary's room, McCoy was suddenly hit by the vast array of things that she still  _didn't know_  about her best friend. After all, they were all so blatantly  _there_ , plastered across the walls.

Gary was the exception to many a rule and his room it seemed was no different. Where most of the men appeared to favour white washed walls with very little personality, Roach liked to decorate his with whatever he could find, to make them all busy and full of life. Strewn across the plaster were pictures of his family and friends, interesting snippets and articles from magazines, all interspersed with posters of half-naked glamour models and indie bands that Lara had never even heard of. It was almost as if the very walls themselves were snapshots of his life, his _loves_ , reminders of the living, breathing person who remained long after he shrugged off his combat armour and fatigues.

"Hey…" Gary's face seemed to lighten and he smiled, sitting up slightly from his reclined position on the bed. The book he was reading fell open in his lap. "I was just thinking about coming to see you."

"Oh yeah?" Lara quirked an amused eyebrow, sitting down on the bed by his legs. "Tough luck. Looks like I beat you to it."

"Well I was only letting your lazy ass oversleep." He smirked. "After all, what would Princess Bones do without all her beauty sleep, huh?"

" _Fuck you_ , Gary. You know damn well that I sleep less than  _you._ "

"True, but where's the fun in being honest?" Laughing, he sat up straight, closing his book carelessly and tossing it onto his bedside table. "I'm guessing that you're here for more than just teasing though, right?"

"I'm just doing my rounds." McCoy shrugged idly. She nodded her head towards one of the posters by Roach's bed, a pale redhead in skimpy lingerie straddling a chair. "Besides, you know that I just can't resist your startlingly accurate portrayals of the female anatomy…"

"Feeling a bit insecure, eh, Bones?"

" _Please…_ " Lara grinned, a small laugh escaping her lips. "I bet she just  _longs_  for biceps like mine really."

"I think half of the task force long for biceps like yours." Gary retorted, shrinking away from her when she reached out quickly to smack him on the shoulder. "Hey!  _Watch it_ … you're hitting damaged goods here!"

"Damaged?" It took Lara a good few seconds longer than she would have liked to realise and when she did her stomach lurched almost painfully. She concentrated her gaze on his face, suddenly becoming aware of the faint cuts and scrapes that marked his forehead and left cheek. Her voice was suddenly deadly serious. "What aren't you telling me, Gary?"

"You didn't ask." He shrugged and then immediately winced from the action. "Besides, the guys at the FOB patched me up. There's nothing to tell."

"Like hell there isn't." Bones was already leaning closer to him. "Where are you hurt?"

"It's just a few cuts and bruises…"

"Then let me bloody well see!" The words left her mouth far more frustrated than she meant them too and Lara instantly reigned herself in. She fixed Gary with a strong, knowing glare. "You can show me now or I read it all in your report tomorrow. It's your choice."

"Just so you know, the queen bitch look really doesn't suit you." Roach sulked, rolling his eyes as a rough sigh escaped his lips. Almost out of pure stubbornness alone he paused, biding his time to answer. "I cracked a rib and managed to bruise another. My knees are pretty torn up and my hands are…" He held them out to her, palms facing upwards so that she could see the diagonal, yet shallow cuts across his skin. "… They've been better, but they're nothing I can't handle." He saw the look on Lara's face and forced a quick smile. "And yeah, before you ask, I've had all my shots."

"What medication are you on?"

"The usual pain meds. I should have a stockpile by now."

"I'm going to have to examine you, maybe put you on some anti-inflammatories." She rubbed the palm of her right hand across her chin thoughtfully. "And you know you're off the physical training roster for at least three weeks, right?"

"Believe it or not, I've cracked ribs before." He gave her a roguish smile. "Back when I was training for Delta. I've never hit the ground that hard since."

"Either way, you're still my patient, that doesn't change even if you've broken every single bone in your body." She shook her head, seeing past his smile with ease. "But seriously, what happened out there, Gary? After the CASEVAC I mean."

"Pretty much what you already know. We found Rojas, interrogated him and then got the hell out of there." There was something amiss with his tone. " _The end_."

"And what? Rojas' militia slashed at you with broken glass and cracked your ribs?" Lara gave him a sceptical look. "I spoke to Nick. He said you'd just shut down on him when he tried to talk to you about this last night." She paused, worrying her lip. "Don't try it with me too, mate."

"I should have guessed. Nick's got one hell of a big mouth." Gary lowered his eyes, his shoulders hunching slightly. When he looked back up and met Lara's gaze, his face was almost defeated. "I  _fell_ , ok?"

"Where?"

"The militia had us cornered and the first LZ was overrun. We were running across the rooftops to the secondary LZ and I fell, misjudged the jump,  _whatever_. Next thing I know I'm lying in the dirt with the militia breathing down my neck."

"What did you do?"

"I ran. It was either that or just lie there and give them target practice. You have no idea how many times I thought I was about to take a bullet."

" _Shit_ …" In some ways it was more to comfort herself than him as Lara reached out for his forearm, her fingers curling around it in enough of a squeeze to remind her that he was still alive and breathing in front of her. It might have been irrational, pathetic even, but there was no denying the fact that she wasn't ready to even  _think_  about losing anyone else, never mind her best friend. "I'm sorry, Gary. I should have talked to you sooner… or  _something_."

"After what we went through with Greg?" Roach shook his head. "Lara, I'm  _ok_. Sure, it scared the hell out of me at the time and I'm not feeling so hot right now, but I'm  _alive_ , right?" He laughed darkly. "I mean  _hell_ , it's not like I'm even being haunted by some life altering epiphany I had whilst I was running from all that gunfire. It wasn't like in the movies; all flashbacks of the best friends you'd lose and the girls in high school you never kissed. It was just me running and praying to God that what happened to Greg wouldn't happen to me." He ran his tongue across his teeth. "I never want to go out like that."

"No one should." His words alone had brought the bitter image of Meat's last moments before Lara's mind's eye and she fought to push them back. "But at least he wasn't alone."

"I guess." Gary scratched at the back of his head ruefully. "But I still feel like I made the wrong call. Splitting off from Royce and Ozone I mean. Royce told me that they could handle it. Hell, he  _ordered_  me to go. But that doesn't stop me thinking that if I'd stayed behind he'd have never caught that bullet."

"You can't look back on it knowing what you know now. Right then, our objective was stabilising Meat. Royce knew that I couldn't do that  _and_  watch our arse at the same time." She gave him a weak, if deliberate smile. "Either way he could have caught that bullet with you stood right next to him."

"Unfortunately cold hard logic doesn't always stop your brain from going places it doesn't want to go." He gave her a meaningful look. "I bet you were doing the same damn thing last night. That's why you bailed, right?"

"You saw me, huh?"

"I was looking out for you, _yeah_. I guess I just remembered how you'd looked back in Rio and knew that you'd be blaming yourself." He paused, running this tongue across his lips to wet them anxiously. "I was going to go check up on you, but then I saw MacTavish leave."

"You did?" Lara knew that there was no real point in hiding anything from Roach anymore.

"Sure, but only because I knew what I was looking for. I'm pretty sure no one else noticed, even Riley."

"Believe it or not, I didn't expect anyone to come find me. I just wanted to be alone, space, time to grieve I guess. I didn't really stop to think about what you or MacTavish might need."

"If you ask me, last night was about being a little bit selfish. If it helps, I don't think that you and the Captain were the only ones. Ozone sneaked off the base and stayed with Adam in the town. Toad and Archer drowned themselves in a bottle of whisky. And as for me…" He paused, tapping at a picture beside his bed of a girl who looked to be in her late teens, the smile on her face almost identical to his. "I managed to steal the phone and talk to my little sister. Not about anything important, just regular stuff like her summer plans. But it  _helped_ , you know?"

"It's the little things that remind us of the bigger picture." Lara nodded, her mind suddenly shooting back to MacTavish, to the soft thoughts she allowed herself in her more private moments, to the life that she wished they could share. It was true that those thoughts alone had helped her get through some of her most troubled, sleepless nights with the 141. She eyed Roach curiously, worrying her lip as she weighed up her next sentence. "About MacTavish…"

"Lara, I've tried to tell you how to live your life before and I'm not about to pretend that it went so well. I took matters into my own hands and ended up screwing you over even more. I don't think I'm really the person you need to be listening to right now."

"Maybe not, but I'm still asking for it." She sighed. "I care about what you think, Gary. I can't say that about everyone else."

"Then I guess all I can tell you is to be careful. You don't need me to tell you what you're getting into, you've been there before. And right now, with everything we've faced? I don't think I have the right to try stopping either of you from being happy." He paused, a mischievous laugh rushing past his lips, almost as an afterthought. "And I swear I won't come charging in defending your honour again this time around. That's one mistake I'm in no hurry to make again."

"Another split lip got you running scared, eh, Sergeant?" Lara teased.

"More the insubordination papers I'd be served with later. I learned from an early age that messing with your boss is a bad idea. I figure it's even worse if there's a girl involved too."

"Some deep, dark secret from your past I need to hear about, Sanderson?" McCoy smirked, nudging him gently in the bicep.

"Not this time." Roach grinned, throwing a staged wink in her direction. "But if you ever feel generous enough to get plenty of beers down me, maybe I'll share it someday…"

* * *

In school, Lara McCoy had always been the gawky looking tall girl that towered over all her classmates and tried to keep to herself. She didn't like wearing her hair down or the cute frilly pink skirts that her mother would occasionally encourage her to wear. As a result, a small group of girls took an instant dislike to her, the most obvious being a red headed, rosy cheeked brat called Katie Strongham. For five years, Lara endured her teasing and jokes, avoiding Katie whenever she had the chance, until one innocent enough day in the school canteen. They'd been standing in line for macaroni cheese, Lara trapped behind Katie and her friends. Ordinarily, Lara would have tried to block them out, but this time their taunting wasn't directed at her. It was aimed at her brother, David and the fact that he'd just openly started dating a guy called Steve. McCoy hadn't heard everything that had been said, but the words "fag" and "queer" had most definitely been thrown around amongst loud, teasing giggles.

Something in Lara had snapped. She'd seen red and without thinking she'd reached for the closest thing to hand. Ten seconds later, Katie Strongham had found herself covered in an industrial container's worth of macaroni cheese.

This moment stood out in McCoy's life for two main reasons. At thirteen years old, it was the first time that she could really remember losing her temper and doing something completely and utterly reckless. Secondly, it was the only time that she had found herself stood outside the headmaster's office with nothing better to do than listen to the school receptionist relay what had happened to her father in an overly hushed tone over the phone. At the time, her dad's reaction was far scarier than anything she might have expected from her headmaster.

Now, fifteen years later, Bones could feel that dread once again dwelling in the pit of her stomach. It was the same result of doing something rash, of being forced to face up to her actions despite not really wanting to. Granted, the circumstances might have been completely different and far more complex than they'd been in school, but the emotion forcing her to just stand there motionless was exactly the same. Her conversation with Roach barely five minutes earlier might have filled her with courage then, but now, faced with the actual prospect of talking to MacTavish face to face, McCoy simply wanted to go run and hide.

Shaking her head, Lara silently told herself to grow the fuck up. She allowed herself a single deep breath before knocking loudly at MacTavish's door.

There was no answer. Confused, Lara brought her ear closer to the door and listened carefully. His office seemed to be totally silent. Cocking a curious eyebrow, she knocked again, fully aware that she was already beginning to lose her nerve. After all, it would be so easy not to confront MacTavish and to just go on wondering just exactly why he had chosen the night when they were both at their most vulnerable to come in and screw her mind over further…

"I don't think he's in." A sudden voice behind her made Lara jump and she spun round, her mouth more than likely still shaped in a very unattractive "O" as she found herself stood face to face with Soap. He looked surprisingly casual to how she was used to, his normal shirt replaced by a plain white tee shirt, the fabric clinging to the tops of his arms and pectorals. There were droplets of water caught within his short mess of hair, his skin slightly flushed as though he'd only just got out of the shower. "Do you stare intently at my door often?" He didn't bother trying to repress a smirk.

"I was looking for you." Bones admitted sheepishly.

"Then you found me." Nudging her aside, MacTavish moved towards his office door, unlocking it quickly and holding it open, silently asking her in. Accepting his invitation, Lara ducked past him and moved inside.

"I tried the rec room first." She started speaking as soon as the door was shut, the silence feeling all too tense and awkward for her to bear. Behind her she heard the door click again as MacTavish locked it, the added privacy giving her at least a small amount of comfort. "Thought you might be in there with the others."

"I'd been up since the crack of dawn, or what felt like it anyway. I decided that I should do something useful and at least put in some hours at the gym." He stepped past her, leaning against his desk. "I've never really been any good at just sitting around on my arse all day."

"You and me both." Lara laughed weakly. "Although I don't really think that any of us managed to sleep very soundly last night one way or another."

"Brazil's got everyone pretty shaken up." He folded his arms. "I guess we got complacent, but I'd take that any day over constantly expecting one of my friends to take a bullet."

"Expecting the worst never really makes anything better. Sure, it cushions the blow a little but the pain and loss is the same however it happens. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself."

"Yeah." MacTavish's eyes met hers deliberately, his features pensive. "How are you holding up?"

"I feel more…  _together_." McCoy sighed, absently nursing her ponytail at the back of her head. She hadn't really expected him to allude to what they'd spoken about in the early hours of that morning and so his question instantly caught her off guard. "The guilt is still there along with everything else, but I'm more in control now." She forced a quick laugh, a last ditch attempt to prove her point. "I don't really make a habit of crying on my superior officers. Or crying at all if I can help it."

"Neither do I. Or if it's going to happen it's usually confined to my room. Or office." He stared at her intensely for a moment, his eyes so focused that Lara wasn't able to predict what he was about to say next. "But last night… it wasn't really about rank was it?"

_Shit._

"No… I guess not." Her voice was already tailing off before she had really started and Lara faltered, memories of the kiss they'd shared flooding her thoughts. The images themselves were accompanied by a strange bombardment of other emotions. After all, Lara knew exactly what emotion  _she'd_  put into the kiss but as for MacTavish, as always he was impossible for her to read. Whether it had been pity, loneliness or something stronger still remained to be seen. Their conversation, usually so easy and fluid, suddenly felt strained and tense. Lara's reasoning was simple; she was terrified of hearing something that she didn't want to. "So we can talk then? Outside of rank?"

"Don't we always?" He let out a short, nervous laugh, just enough of a crack in his calm exterior to tell her that he was finding words as difficult as she was. It filled her with fresh courage. "Lara… What I said last night… I meant every word. The apology…  _everything_."

"And the kiss?" She felt like an idiot as soon as the words left her mouth but there was no going back now. "Did you mean that too?"

" _Lara…-_ "

"Just sodding answer me."

"Of course I did!" He gave her nothing short of an indignant look. "You weren't just some coping mechanism for me, alright? That wasn't what last night was about. It  _wasn't_  pity. I wouldn't  _do_  that to you."

"I know. But you can't blame me for thinking it. You said so yourself; you've pushed me away more than most. All those times you told me that you were broken, that you couldn't give me what I deserved, hell the last time we talked properly you told me that your loyalty to Riley would always be in the way." She was suddenly angry, stepping towards him in frustration. "I'm sorry, John. But what the hell was I supposed to think last night?"

" _Christ_ …"MacTavish hissed, his voice pained and frustrated. "You too, eh? Is there  _anyone_  on this base who doesn't want my balls in a vice today?"

" _Excuse me?_ " It was fair to say that Lara was taken completely off guard by MacTavish's reaction. She watched as he hung his head, more exasperated than angry, as though it weighed heavy on his shoulders. He exhaled loudly and McCoy softened. "What the hell have I missed?"

"Our orders came down from Shepherd." He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "For what it's worth anyway."

"What can you tell me?"

"There's nothing _to_  tell, I guess that's the point. In short? We're caught between fucking politics and a hard place here."

" _Bollocks_." It didn't take Lara long to realise his meaning. She bit her lip, taking another, more tentative step towards him. Her hand outstretched, she rested her palm against his right forearm, somehow hoping that the physical contact would give him a small amount of solace. She didn't pretend that she understood MacTavish fully, but McCoy was convinced that she knew him well enough to realise that the intel they had received from Rojas was the only thing that could even begin to justify the friends that they'd lost. With that justification gone, Lara could only begin to imagine how bitter and raw Meat and Royce's deaths now felt for MacTavish. "I hadn't even  _thought-._.."

"Neither had I." The Captain shook his head. "To be honest, I don't know what's worse. The fact that my hands are tied or the fact that I  _didn't_  see this coming." Slowly, he raised his left hand and grazed it gently over where Lara's hand still rested on his arm, his fingers momentarily ghosting over her skin. He forced a weak smile. "I guess the gym didn't relax me as much as I thought it had."

"You're only human, right?" Lara smiled back, withdrawing her hand. She tilted her head to one side, suddenly feeling a little too self-conscious. "Maybe right now isn't a good time for me to be here…"

"I don't think I could tolerate anyone else right now." The blunt honesty of MacTavish's statement was enough to stop McCoy in her tracks. He reached for her left hand, taking a firm hold of it and stopping her from withdrawing any further. "And last night wasn't just some brief lapse in judgement, ok?"

"But after everything you've said?" Lara gave him a nigh on helpless look. "Come on, John. You have to realise that for me at least, last night was completely out of the blue."

"Everything I've said still applies. I'm no hypocrite, Lara, or at least I like to think that I'm not anyway. I can't pretend that what happened with Riley or my command doesn't matter anymore." He paused, lacing his fingers with hers. "But losing Meat and Royce… How can I pretend that it didn't remind me of just how bloody  _fragile_ life is? Of how  _short_  it is? How can I apologise for just wanting to be  _with_  you, in whatever small way I could be?" He laughed softly. "Like you said, I'm only human."

"But I don't want to be another mistake." His words felt as if they were washing over the top of her head, as though they were moving too quickly for her to be able to process them properly. "Not again."

" _You_  never were. But how we both handled this?  _That_  was the mistake."

"Then how do we handle this now?" McCoy sighed, her eyes wide as she continued to stare at him. "Like you said, nothing's really changed. We still can't do right for doing wrong."

"And for once I'm not going to pretend that I have all the answers. If I did, none of this would have happened in the first place." His hand moved from hers and ghosted up her arm until it came to rest on the left side of her neck, his thumb cradling her jaw. "But when I apologised, it wasn't for how I pushed you away, it wasn't even for letting you genuinely believe that you were alone in all of this."

"Then what were you apologising for?"

"For being so bloody  _blind_. I was sorry that it took the deaths of two of my friends to make me realise what I'd done. What I'd  _wasted_." He watched her eyes carefully, his face as unsure as she felt. "I can't promise you any more than I could months ago, Lara. But I'm done with playing selfless. Life's just too fucking  _short_."

For the first time in as long as she'd known him, Bones had simply run out of words.

She wasn't about to kiss him first like she had done less than 12 hours before. Instead Lara remained still, her eyes locked on his, almost as though she was daring him to make the first move, to prove to her everything he had said. For one, aching moment, it felt as though MacTavish might pull away from her again.

When his mouth did finally meet hers, the kiss was very different to the one that they had shared on the embankment the night before. Where they had been tentative before they were now more familiar, their mouths moving with a new sense of purpose. In the back of her head, Bones was painfully aware of the myriad of questions that were still left unanswered, of the jumbled words that she somehow needed to voice and yet had been rendered unable to. But right then, as MacTavish's hands cupped her face and with his mouth pressed so firmly against hers, Lara succumbed again to her own emotions.

The kiss was growing in intensity with each passing second and McCoy looped her arms around MacTavish's neck, her hands brushing against the still damp hair on the top of his head in the process. Soap's hands dropped down to her hips, pulling her even closer, his thumbs lightly digging into her hip bones, their pressure possessive. His lips gently nipped at her bottom lip, pulling at the skin in a quick movement and causing Lara to gasp softly into his mouth. A brief chuckle escaped Soap's lips before he kissed her again, his tongue pushing past her lips in a way that sent every nerve in her spinal cord tingling.

His hands were suddenly cupping the tops of her thighs, guiding her around so that she had her back to his desk. Without any other word, Lara was lifted up into the air, her legs instinctively curling around his waist as he carried her the short distance to his desk. The cacophony of crashes went practically unheard as Soap lowered Bones down onto the wood, his belongings haphazardly strewn out across the work top or rolling off onto the floor. Her legs still wrapped around his waist, Lara's hands slid down to his shoulders, her palms flat as they slid curiously along the firm muscle and bone they found there. From there, she pulled away from the kiss, only to dip her head and begin to kiss a long line down his throat, her mouth dwelling knowingly on the pulse point towards the base.

MacTavish let out a rough groan, his head rolling to one side to give her better access to his neck. His left hand moved up and held the back of her head as encouragement, his fingers gently wrapped around the base of her ponytail. His right hand however, began a slow and tormenting slide down her torso, his fingers deft as they reached the button fastenings of her fatigues. There was a split second of hesitation before Lara lifted her head, moving to kiss his lips again as Soap's fingers began to pull down the zipper.

From then on, as his fingers teased at the elastic of her underwear, Bones realised just how much she needed this. Just how much she'd needed  _him_.

" _Sir?_ "

A questioning yell from the other side of his door caused them both to freeze instantly, MacTavish's hand caught unceremoniously between Lara's legs. They didn't dare move or speak as the person knocked and called out again.

" _Captain?_ "

" _Shhh_ …" Grinning, MacTavish held his free hand to Lara's lips. Someone tried the handle of the door but the lock clicked instead and prevented them from getting any further. McCoy herself was caught somewhere between complete humiliation and total arousal, her heart hammering in her chest at the sudden intrusion. She could feel every rise and fall of Soap's chest against her as he breathed steadily, the heat from his body making her feel flushed. The close proximity of their bodies was maddening, her body desperate to continue what it had started. Instead it took all the willpower in the world just to stand there and simply  _listen_.

"I feel like I'm back in bloody school." She didn't know how long they'd been frozen there, but MacTavish seemed to be satisfied that the intruder had left. He took a step backwards away from her, allowing her to jump down off of his desk. "Sneaking around with some girl and doing everything I'm not supposed to."

"Some girl, huh?" Lara laughed, nudging him in mock offense.

"You know what I mean." MacTavish hissed. He watched her desperately attempt to smooth out and refasten her clothes with amusement before continuing. "I guess I did get a  _little_  carried away that time."

"I think we both did." She tried to ignore the flush of blood to her cheeks as she lifted her hands to her ponytail, pulling it taut where Soap's fingers had loosened the hairband. "Might I suggest somewhere a little quieter next time though?"

"So you're counting on a next time, eh?"

"Oh, I'm sorry,  _now_  you're trying to play coy?" McCoy rolled her eyes, although she stepped towards him as she did so, looping her arms around his neck again. "Either way, you're not playing it very  _well_."

"I was never all that good at acting." He nodded, leaning in and pressing his lips against hers again. It was only meant to be a quick, soft kiss and yet they both seemed to have trouble pulling away. "But on a more serious note, yeah, maybe you're right. Nothing like your dad yelling you from downstairs to kill the mood."

"I wouldn't know, I was a good,  _innocent_  girl." Pulling away from him, Lara gave him a mischievous, if slightly overenthusiastic wink. "Didn't bring a boy home until I was well over eighteen…"

" _Suuuuure_ …" Soap laughed. "And did I mention that I was a proud, full blooded Englishman?" He watched her carefully for moment, waiting for her to stop laughing and fall silent again. "But Lara?"

"What?"

"Let's just… take this easy, ok?" He half shrugged, his left hand graduating to the back of his neck. "I mean…  _us_. It is what it is, right?"

"I wasn't about to go scrawling Mrs Lara MacTavish all over my medical reports if that's what you mean." She quipped a little too quickly. "Mainly because your last name is just a  _little_  bit ridiculous."

" _Lara-_ "

"Ok…  _Ok_ , I'll be serious. But I mean it; I'm not expecting miracles here. I haven't for a long time. I guess I'm just happy knowing that I'm not on my own, you know?" The lifted her arms inarticulately, once again the right words escaping her. "Just know that I don't  _expect_ anything from you, alright? I'm not really in a position where I can."

"Ok. But I damn well hope that I can give you a little bit more than that." MacTavish nodded, the smile fixed across his face and oddly genuine one. "For what it's worth anyway."

* * *

The walk back to the Infirmary should have been a surreal one, but for the first time McCoy felt more in control then she had in a long time. For once, the questions in her head were silenced, beaten, not entirely answered, but reassured enough to not form a constant murmur at the back of her thoughts. The grief was still there etched with pain and magnified by guilt, but it too seemed quieter, less alien. There was never going to be any real cure for the emotion aside from time, but at least for now Bones felt that little bit more at  _peace_.

Through talking with Ozone and Roach, Lara had realised that she wasn't alone, that in some shape or form every member of the task force was reeling inside just like her. She'd seen how Nick had blamed himself for Royce's death on the CASEVAC bird and she had heard Gary admit himself that he felt partly responsible too. Somehow, that solidarity was comforting, in whatever twisted, strange way it could be.

When it came to MacTavish, there was no denying the human part of her that simply relished the human contact. It wasn't so much that it made her feel safe, rather that it gave her something to cling to when her mind reached its darkest places. The knowledge that Soap cared about her just as she cared for him gave McCoy  _hope_. Hope that someday there might be more to her life than running, fighting and soldiering. It was something that might never come true in the future, but that wasn't important. If medicine and the military had only taught her one thing, it was the simple fact that hope was so much more than just a simple idea.

As for the future, Lara knew that there was little point in blind speculation. She would be thrown into situations that would test her resolve, both mental and physical. After all, that was what she had signed up for the day Captain Blake had come to her with her transfer papers to the 141. She'd known the risks even if she hadn't fully appreciated them back when she'd signed her attestation paper back in her early 20s, back in the days when she barely knew how to hold a rifle or assemble her kit. But even so, none of that really mattered. Now, there was only her job and the knowledge that whatever happened in the future, Lara would always have her 141 family to help her pick up the pieces. And somehow, even after everything they had already done and seen, that made it all seem _possible_.

 


	26. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

It was a strange time on the base. The air had begun to cool and the sun's intensity had faded a little as the last few weeks of summer reared their heads; something that at the very least made training that bit more bearable. But the slight drop in temperature did little to make any of the men any less hot headed. With Shepherd making it clear that there would be no more operations involving Makarov, the Task Force's workload had seemed to cease entirely and one week of total inaction later, everyone was suffering from full on cabin fever **.** In many ways the dry spell couldn't have come at any worse time for them. After all, with every man still reeling from Meat and Royce's deaths  _any_  form of distraction was sorely needed. As it was, they were all simply left wanting and frustrated.

There wasn't much to do to blow off steam aside from training  _harder_  and drinking  _more_. Their days were filled with as many drills as possible, ranging from the usual physical training exercises to more specialised drills set in the cinder block buildings that populated the live rounds half of the base. Exhausted evenings were spent either asleep or drinking in the rec room, although the atmosphere lacked the happy, raucous vibe that Lara was used to. Instead, they all just sat around and drank idly, all busy betting money that they didn't have in card games or fighting over the solitary pool table. Sometimes McCoy would join in, although she was the first to admit that she had no real head for poker. Playing pool with Roach, Toad **,**  and Ozone was always a far more preferable option, but that meant they had to somehow wrestle the pool cues off of Rook and Scarecrow first. More often than not Lara would find herself downing bottled beers and nodding her head in an attempt to make it look like she had actually  _heard_ of half of the bands that Roach and Ozone babbled about.

McCoy had never really seen herself as someone who would crave an operation, or at least not in the same way that Archer or Ghost might. But after a week of nothing but wall to wall training, she was bitching about the lack of action along with the rest of the Task Force.

That afternoon, McCoy was making the most of the quiet in the rec room. No one really bothered with it during the day **,** so Lara often sat in one of the booths at the far end of the room, flicking through some old reports while eating her lunch. In fairness, it was nothing that she couldn't do in her office in the Infirmary, but the truth was that she appreciated the change of scenery. After all, the Infirmary felt as though it had devoured too many hours of her life as it was.

She had thought that she was alone or relatively so at the very least. Her brain was aware enough to hear that there was some clattering from the kitchen side of the rec room, but Bones paid the noise very little attention, focusing on her reports instead. They were hardly anything exciting, but that being said they justified as work just enough to stop her from having to go and run the assault course for the third time that week.

There was a rustle of fabric in front of her, the booth juddering slightly as someone sat down at the table opposite her. Confused, Lara looked up, her mouth already moving as though she was posing a silent question. The blue eyes that greeted hers simply looked back at her blankly.

_Ghost._

"Riley?" She hated how unsure her voice came out, half a splutter as she attempted to clear her throat at the same time. The corners of Riley's mouth flicked up in brief amusement.

"Last I checked,  _yeah._ " His eyebrows raised slightly in a look that Lara usually took as a sign that he was trying to read her. "What? Am I ruining your lunch or something?"

"No, I just didn't think that you'd..." She stopped herself, choosing instead to change tack. "I just figured you were in the gym, that's all."

"I was in there long enough to almost tear my triceps. Any longer and I'd have been headlining the injured list. Not that it makes much difference around 'ere right now."

"Less work for me though." The joke escaped her mouth all too easily and Lara froze, worrying her lip. Opposite her, Riley seemed to pay very little attention and she decided to carry on regardless. "The orders'll come down eventually though. And you'll hear about them  _long_ before me."

"Perk of the job." Riley rolled his eyes.

" _I guess_ …" Fresh out of anything else that wouldn't descend into another pleading apology, McCoy stopped herself from saying anything else, throwing them both into uneasy silence. Riley seemed far less affected by it than she was as he lifted the glass of water in front of him to his lips, downing half of it in one gulp. When he was finished, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, his eyes settling on her purposefully.

"I spoke to Roach."

" _Gary_?" She raised a questioning eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

"Well if we're being all technical, he spoke to me first. But  _whatever_ …" He rolled his shoulders and twisted his neck to one side in a long stretch. "He told me about what happened with Greg. At the end I mean."

"I… don't really know where you're going with this, Riley…"

"You lied to him." The bluntness of his speech caught McCoy off guard. "You knew that Alex was dead, but you still said that he was coming for him, right?"

Lara let out an involuntary hiss. She should have guessed that Ghost wouldn't miss a chance to tell her just how unprofessional he thought she'd acted, even if he had never been there and had just heard it from someone else. Gritting her teeth, Bones tried to settle the irritation swelling within her. Already the conversation was bringing back bitter and painful memories.

"I don't know what you're looking for me to say, Simon. I had to make a split second decision for my patient. I didn't have  _time_  to worry about the morality of it all."

"But he died believing that his best mate would save him, right?" She'd expected him to be angry or at least a little spiteful by now, but instead Riley's voice was strangely indifferent and to the point.

" _Sorry?_ "

"I think you've got me all wrong here, Bones. I'm not judging you for what happened out there."

"… Then what are you doing?"

" _Really?_ " Ghost shook his head. "I don't know.  _Thanking_  you, I guess?" His right hand flicked out and began to idly twist the glass of water to the either side on the table. "Greg could be a right jumped up little arsehole, any bloke on this base would say the same. And I  _know_ that you and him didn't see eye to eye most of the time. But he was my friend… And well, I guess what you did gave him at least a little bit of  _peace_."

"I had a lot of respect for him." McCoy responded bluntly, her mind reeling at the sudden twist in conversation. A pang of guilt hit her squarely in the stomach for how she had managed to misjudge him so harshly. "It killed me to see him suffer."

"But he could have suffered a damn sight more. What you did might have been immoral, but with the bond he and Alex had?" Ghost let out the briefest of sighs. "Knowing that he was dead would have finished him."

"Ultimately, it didn't matter."

"True, but no one knew that then. It was all still to play for…" For a split second, Riley looked as though he had finished speaking, hesitation causing such an alien expression to be written across his features. He ran a hand through his hair, leaning backwards in his seat in the process. "It's just… credit where credit's due, Bones. You made the right call out there. I guess I just thought that knowing you…well, you'd already be using lying to Greg as  _something_   _else_ tobeat yourself up about."

"And you care whether I beat myself up about Meat or not?" Ordinarily, the question would have sounded coarse and hurt, but Lara's voice was too soft and maybe a little bit too hopeful for that.

"I  _care_ about calling things the way I see them. A good XO gives out punishment, but isn't afraid to give out praise either." His eyes never even left hers. "And all other bollocks aside, I'm always going to be your XO."

"Absolutely,  _sir_." Now McCoy's tone was very deliberate. She knew that Riley would never be able to offer her a real olive branch, but then again she also recognised that this was probably as close as she was likely to get. In reality, she still doubted that she even deserved one. But to have Riley there, in front of her, instigating their first civil conversation since she had so  _stupidly_  called him a mistake, was at least the promise of a clean start. One that she was eager not to waste.

"Good." Ghost stood up a little too quickly, catching her off guard. "Then we understand each other?"

"Perfectly." Or at least, Lara hoped that she had understood the exchange. As she watched Riley move from his seat in front of her she'd had the sudden urge to say more, but the words caught in her throat in the fear that she might make things worse all over again. She met Riley's eye again and for the first time the expression she was greeted with was not one of distaste or disapproval. It made her feel that little bit braver. "I…  _appreciate_  this, Riley. You didn't have to say any of that."

"I  _didn't._  But like I said, I wanted to."

"Even so… Thanks." She gave him a polite smile. "I think I needed to hear that from someone who wasn't me."

"What did I say about knowing you?" He quirked an arrogant eyebrow, although the way he didn't give her chance to reply spoke volumes. "Just keep your head in the game, Bones. The next bastard unlucky enough to catch a bullet is going to need you. If it's me… well, I'd rather  _not_  bleed out because you had your head stuck someplace else."

With Ghost gone, the rec room fell back into silence and the sudden white noise felt almost deafening. But at least for once, Lara wasn't in the least bit confused. Leaning back in her seat, her eyes fell to Riley's abandoned glass of water. She smiled. She didn't know if the water had been a simple excuse for him to sit with her or if he had simply forgotten all about it. In the end though, it didn't matter. What was important was what Riley had  _said_  and how some of the words had been reminiscent of back when things had been so much morecomfortable between them. McCoy doubted that Riley would ever let his guard down fully again, not with her anyway, but at least he knew now that he seemed to have taken the first few steps towards forgiving her. Up until then, she hadn't realised just how much she had  _needed_ some kind of atonement for what had happened between them.

Shaking her head, Lara went back to her reports with that little bit more enthusiasm. Even if everything else felt as though it was going to shit, at least some things looked as though they were about to get that little bit better.

_**-X-X-X-X-X-X-** _

_North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD) HQ_

_Colorado Springs_

_United States_

_0117 hours_

The office might have been lit in perfect daylight but that was hardly enough to fool his Circadian rhythm.

Todd McCarthy's eyes flicked to the time displayed in the bottom corner of his computer screen. The sight alone forced a weary sigh from his lips. There was at least another five and a half hours left of his shift before he could crawl into his bed, just as his wife got out of it to wake their kids up for school.

" _Jeez_ , McCarthy." Todd lifted his head at the sudden voice, his eyes meeting with those of his colleague, Ben Walker. A middle aged man whose thick black hair was already peppered with grey, Ben often worked the night shifts along with Todd. He may have been a good fifteen years his senior, but that didn't stop Ben from desperately trying to maintain the image of a younger man. "The US of A is so lucky to have you watching its back, huh?"

"Laugh it up, Walker." Todd rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly as if the action alone was enough to ward off his fatigue. "If you had kids then you'd realise that it's damned near  _impossible_ to get some decent shut eye during the day."

"Another reason why I need kids like I need a hole in the head." Ben shook his head, his face split into a wide grin. "Too many death sentences in this life, man. I'm not looking for  _more._ "

"Whatever you say, Ben."

"Yeah, yeah. You don't believe me,  _I get it_." The older man shrugged, nodding his head towards the still full coffee cup on Todd's desk. "I'll make you some fresh coffee. Maybe the caffeine will shut that whiney ass of yours up."

With him gone, Todd's shoulders hunched over again and he groaned, straightening his back in an attempt to crack his spine. His eyes fell once again on the long forgotten mug of coffee on his desk. By now it was stone cold, a thin scum of beige floating on its surface where the coffee and cream had begun to separate. In an experimental gesture, Todd picked up the mug and swirled it around gently, wrinkling his nose with distaste when the smell reached his nostrils. There had been a time when he'd enjoyed coffee, hell when the smell alone had been something reminiscent of lazy Sunday mornings in bed with his wife, but now it simply existed to keep him awake during long, uneventful night shifts.

Leaning back in his chair, Todd's attention was drawn back to the large monitor sitting at the very front of their office. It was huge, easily spanning half of the wall, with a larger projection of what they could all access from their individual computer monitors. Primarily made up of one large map that showed the entirety of the United States, the projection also included many numerical values that indicated what filters and alignments were in use. Every ten seconds the image would flicker, refreshing itself as new information was fed into the system from the ACS satellite feeds.

The image flashed again and this time something caught Todd's eye. He squinted, startled by the sudden appearance of a cluster of red dots cluttering the screen. His eyes back on his own monitor, Todd's fingers flicked across the keyboard, causing his screen to zoom in on the area occupied by the red dots. The Bering Strait, about 100 miles off the coast of Alaska. The dots flashed as the feed kept refreshing, but each time they reappeared they were ominously closer to the Alaskan coastline. Suddenly, Todd was wide awake.

"Sand Bravo, we're reading 70 bogeys in your sector, please verify." McCarthy tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke. There was no need to panic, even if his heart had begun to hammer that little bit harder within his chest.

" _Very funny, Station. That's a big negative, over."_ The reply came with good cackle of laughter over the comms system, enough to temporarily calm Todd's nerves. He allowed himself a deep breath, his eyes flicking back to the cluster of red dots flickering on his screen.

"Problem?" A fresh mug of coffee found its way onto Todd's desk as Ben manoeuvred himself so that he was standing behind the other man's chair.

"They just appeared. Less than a minute ago."

"Maybe it's a glitch in one of the ACS modules." A firm hand patted Todd's shoulder briefly. "Keep on it, I'll run some diagnostics from my terminal and see if I can track it down."

"Sand Bravo, be advised, we're running diagnostics to scan for malfunction."

" _The skies are clear, Station. You got yourself some phantom dots. Over."_

"I've never seen anything like it." Todd said quickly, flicking off his comms. He glanced to his right where Ben was busy typing away at his station. "Could a glitch cause something that  _big_?"

"From experience, glitches can cause one hell of a lot of crazy shit." Ben shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. He let out a frustrated hiss, one hand pointing towards the large projection in front of them. "Another group, west coast. Looks like 100 or more dots over there."

"You have got to be kidding me." Todd shook his head, quickly pulling his headset back on. "Zulu X-Ray 6. Signs in your sector of some 100 bogeys, please advise."

" _Negatory, Station. Scope is clear."_

"You're sure that you've got nothing over there?"

" _I'm telling you, the scope's as good as clear. Dunno what to tell ya. Solar interference? There's heavy sunspot activity today."_

"It sure as hell isn't solar interference; it's too big for that. Gotta be an ACS fault somewhere." Ben scoffed, pointing to another group of red dots that had just begun to clutter the screen. "Look… a third group,  _there_. Sierra Delta's sector. Looks as if it's right on top of them."

"Sierra Delta, uh... we may have a minor ACS fault here. Do you have anything on your scope?"

" _They're everywhere!"_  The words crackling through the comms system sent an involuntary shudder down Todd's spine. He felt as though every pint of blood inhis veins had run cold.

"Sierra Delta,  _repeat_!"

" _I'm lookin' at fighter jets over I -95!"_  The air traffic controller's voice was barely audible through the panic in his voice.  _"How the hell did they get through?"_

As it was, Todd had his answer almost immediately. A loud beep echoed out throughout the room, signalling the end of the ACS diagnostic programme. The result was flashing in bright red across the length of the main map projection. For a split second, the office was cast into an eerie silence.

_**A.C.S. Diagnostic Complete: FAULT** _

From then on, it became resoundingly clear exactly what was happening. This wasn't a training exercise. It wasn't even a minor glitch in one of their ACS modules. It was a fault in  _all of them_. This was someone rendering their entire satellite system useless in one full brush stroke.

The situation was dire. Even now that they were aware of the fault, the sickening reality was that no matter how quickly they fixed it, they would be  _too late_.

"All stations, be advised - satellite surveillance has been disabled. I repeat, satellite surveillance has been disabled. All SOSUS and PAVE PAWS arrays are inoperative at this time."

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

As John MacTavish tossed and turned for the third time in as many minutes, it became blatantly obvious that his body had no intention of letting him sleep.

For once it wasn't because he had something major hanging over him, which in some ways made his sudden alertness all the more irritating. It was simply the culmination of  _everything_ ; all the stupid little worries and thoughts that suddenly decided to rear their ugly heads all at once and keep him hours away from sleep. The way he saw it, Soap had two options. He could carry on writhing around beneath his bed sheets getting all the more frustrated, or he could just accept that he wasn't tired and haul himself out of bed.

It wasn't exactly the  _hardest_ of decisions…

There were at least a few perks to being Captain. As well as his room being as far from the rec room as possible and therefore one of the quietest, MacTavish also enjoyed the fact that he had his own shower. In fairness it wasn't half as powerful as the ones in the communal showers and as a result he rarely used it, but for nights like this it became invaluable.

The water was cool, no matter which direction Soap attempted to turn the temperature dial. He sighed, forcing himself fully under the water, his skin immediately raising up into goose bumps. A handful of shower gel later **,**  MacTavish attempted to rinse his body off as quickly as possible, the cold water causing him to shudder.

Quickly dabbing at his damp skin with a towel, Soap wrapped it around his waist, content to let the remaining droplets littering his back and shoulders evaporate. Padding over to the sink he turned the cold water on as fully as possible, before bending down and gulping down a large measure of the liquid straight from the tap.

Wiping his mouth, MacTavish's eyes immediately gravitated to the mirror hanging above his sink. It was hardly a vain gesture, but even in the dim light it was impossible to ignore the dark shadow of stubble outlining his jaw. Grunting in displeasure, Soap decided that it would have to wait until morning. Stubble was one thing, hell he'd even argue that it  _suited_  him, but too long and he ran the risk of looking like Price. And that would  _never_ do. Not for a good ten years anyway.

 _Price._ The thought of his mentor was one that Soap quickly tried to push away. It wasn't that he didn't want to remember the man, more that it hurt too much to dwell on the fact that it had been months since he had heard  _anything_  from him. That kind of silence from a man who often felt like more of a father than his biological one cut John deeply, even if he would only ever admit it to himself.

Thoughts of Price brought with them other memories and in turn those memories caused Soap to lean forward closer to the mirror, his eyes settling on the scar that cut his left eyebrow in half. A gift from Imran Zakhaev and the Altay mountains, the scar was now something he barely remembered in passing, just like the half dozen other scars that littered his body from the shrapnel that day. It was almost as if his brain was trying to block out the entire experience until such a time as he actively _tried_  to remember it. Even then, he would only really remember flashes of semi consciousness before they were quickly buried by a mass of other thoughts.

His eyes moving down, MacTavish caught sight of another, much fresher scar that was now so healed that it was barely even visible. A diagonal slash across his right cheek from the Tian Shan Mountains. Soap smiled. Instead of remembering the adrenaline that had surged through his veins on that snowmobile or before that when he'd stared down the muzzle of a gun, his thoughts were suddenly filled with something else.  _Someone_  else. Of Lara and the stubborn way she'd glared at him when she demanded to take a better look at the wound. Soap shook his head, pulling away from the mirror. How Shepherd had managed to find her still astounded him. Because even though she hadn't exactly been what the Task Force was looking for, she certainly was what it had  _needed_.

Or maybe she was just what  _he_ needed.

He wasn't really thinking when he pulled on the closest clothes to hand; a mottled grey t shirt and some black combat fatigues. Jamming his feet into his boots, he made a half arsed attempt at lacing them up before giving up with a frustrated hiss. After quick look around his room was his last chance to change his mind, he jammed his phone into his pocket and headed straight out the door.

Outside a light breeze brought a chill to his still damp skin, the air warm beginning to lose the heat of a true summer night. Above him, scant clouds drifted across the sky, faint silhouettes that muffled the glow of the occasional star. The contrast of the quiet night and the hammer of his boots against tarmac made him break into a slow jog, allowing him to clear the distance between the barracks and the infirmary with ease.

He was knocking on her door before he could stop himself, the sound a little louder and more impatient than he had really meant it to be. From behind the door he heard something that sounded like a groan and the rustle of fabric, two noises which forced him to be patient and not knock again.

"… John?" The woman who finally opened the door was not one he was used to seeing. Her khaki shirt had long since been lost, as was her usual baggy t shirt, the items replaced by a yellow vest top with some faded turquoise sports emblem printed on the front. Light grey shorts clung to her hips, her hair hanging down to her shoulders and framing her face, a far cry from its usual place scraped to the back of her head in a tight ponytail. She gave him an uneasy smile. "It's half one in the morning…"

"I couldn't sleep." He shrugged, his left forearm resting casually against the door frame. "With your track record I thought that there was a good chance that you might be awake too."

"Oh yeah?" She quirked an eyebrow before stepping to one side, indicating behind her to where her bed sheets had been left crumpled and in disarray. "I was just reading. Trying to make my head as tired as the rest of me I guess." She laughed, her mouth dropping open just that little bit too much. "You know,  _the usual_."

"Maybe I should have tried something similar. But I can go **,**  if you really don't want any company that is?"

" _Please_ … You crossed that huge expanse of tarmac  _just_ to see me." McCoy smirked, standing aside fully in invitation. "I can hardly tell you to just piss off now, can I?"

The door closed behind him, Soap stepped further into the room, taking in his surroundings for what felt like the first time. The truth was that the few times he'd set foot in Lara's quarters, MacTavish had never really taken the chance to look around and actually pay attention to what he was seeing. There seemed to be very little to notice, McCoy, like the majority of the Task Force choosing to live light rather than clutter her room with too many personal effects.

" _Lipstick Jungle…?_ " The words rolled off Soap's tongue incredulously as he picked up a lurid green book from Lara's bed. He held it out to her, a soft chuckle escaping his lips when she snatched it away from him.

"Oh  _sod off_. Did you really expect me to read all about wars and bandages for R  & R?"

"No, but  _that_?" He gave the book a quick nod. "It's like something my ma would read.  _Chick Lit_ , right?"

"It's  _escapism_. And last I checked I  _was_  actually a woman." She put her hands on her hips, her features embarrassed yet stubborn. "Anyway, I'd say that your mother has  _excellent_  taste."

"Steady now, McCoy. She married my da, let's not give her _too_  much credit." Toeing off his boots, MacTavish collapsed onto Lara's bed, scooting backwards so that he was resting against the wall. His phone dug into his thigh from within his pocket and he pulled it out, idly tossing it onto Lara's bedside table out of the way.

"And she has you for a son, so I guess the poor woman has suffered enough." Clearly feeling as though she had gotten him back for making fun of her, Lara sat down on the bed beside him, her legs crossed. She ran a hand through her hair. "I guess your parents never taught you that looking through a lady's possessions is incredibly  _rude_."

"Oh they did, it's just that the 141 seems to have a hard time recruiting any  _ladies._ " He teased, earning himself a firm smack to hisarm. Laughing it off, Soap leaned forwards, picking up the framed picture beside Lara's bed. In it were four people, an older woman in the foreground with Lara in her officer's uniform standingon her left. On the right were two men, one of them almost the spitting image of McCoy herself. "This your family?"

"Most of it,  _yeah_. It was taken after I got commissioned."

"Tell me about them?" Soap lifted his eyes from the photo and to Lara's.

"Well there's me, obviously. Towering over my mum like I have since I was about fourteen. Then there's David and Mark."

"Your brothers?"

"Sort of. David's my biological brother; he's the tall one on the right. Mark's his partner, but they've been together so long that I pretty much think of him as a brother too." She sighed mournfully. "They got a civil partnership… what? Two years ago? I missed the ceremony because I was on tour. David didn't speak to me for at least three weeks when I got back."

"You've never mentioned them before."

"A bit like how you never stop talking about your family, huh?" Lara laughed softly, although there was a saddened quality to the sound. "I don't like to talk about them because it makes me miss them. It's as simple as that I guess."

"You make a good point." Respectfully, Soap put the picture back where he'd found it, this time turning his full attention to Bones. Instead of speaking, he paused, waiting until she finally made eye contact with him. McCoy held his gaze for a few seconds before shrinking away from him, her hand gravitating up to her face to push an imaginary lock of hair out of her eyes. "And if it means anything at all, it's like that for me too."

"Really?"

"Yeah… My sister annoys the hell out of me with how superficially she sees the world. And me and my parents,  _well_ , we're always going to have very different morals. But they're my family. 'Course I miss them."

"You mentioned your sister to me once; it sounded as though you were close." McCoy nodded softly. "Although you were pretty hammered at the time too."

"We were. There was enough of an age gap for me to play the over protective big brother when we were in our teens. But in a lot of ways, we're probably too alike, or we're both as stupid as hell anyway. She's as determined as me to escape the quiet life waiting for us back in Elgin **,**  it seems."

"Quiet life, huh? That sounds nice."

"In abstract, yeah, but I'd be bored within a week. My da dreams of one of us taking over his shop and settling down nearby and I think my ma just wants the grandkids. I guess Sara might be able to help with that one at some point." He laughed gently. "As long as she does it the right way around and some fool marries her first of course."

"I had no idea that you were so traditional." Lara eyed him almost warily.

"Not me, my parents. They're both Catholic, although my ma's the more devout of the two."

"And you?"

"Got you worried now, haven't I, Bones?" MacTavish smirked again, shaking his head. "God is… too  _complicated_  for me, let's put it that way. I rebelled against it as a kid and now I feel like I've seen too much." He paused, cradling the back of his neck with his left hand, his eyes dropping from Lara's for a moment. "I guess the guilt is still there though,  _sometimes._ "

" _Hey_ , we both know that I've got enough guilt for the both of us and I've always been as agnostic as they come." Bones smiled, pivoting around to face him. Her hand reached out and stroked at his left forearm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to turn into another one of those nights where we just sit around and regret. I know you didn't come here for that."

"I came here because I was thinking about you." It was a brave statement that he chose to say in a very matter of fact way, but the truth was that Soap was done trying to bullshit her.

"That was your grand plan, eh?"

"A plan suggests that it wasn't spontaneous." He shrugged. "To be honest with you, I didn't really think past you letting me in."

"Great, so now we're  _ad libbing_? I'm not so good at making things up as I go along…  _Soap_."

"You just _love_  calling me that, don't you?"

"It suits you." She grinned, leaning forwards so that she was that little bit closer to him, her hand still a constant presence on his arm. "It feels like such a contradiction. You hear the word 'Soap' and you think of some little guy who always used to get teased in the showers. But what you actually get is one bloody huge Scotsman who'd happily shoot that smirk off your face at 100 metres."

"Bloody huge Scotsman?" Soap laughed, turning to face her on the bed so that he was almost mirroring her. He raised a scarred eyebrow. "Is that really the  _best_  you could come up with?"

"I warned you that I was never all that good at  _ad libbing_." Lara grinned, her voice breaking into a soft laugh. "I need a couple of hours to come up with any decent witticisms. You should have given me more notice."

"I'll bear that one in mind." He reached forwards and caught the back of her head with one hand, his thumb stroking an absent line against the ridge of her cheekbone. "Although next time you might want to avoid antagonising me whilst you're in such a compromising position."

"Really?" Her voice became that little bit lower, almost challenging. "And remind me again why I should be scared of you?"

"I'm bigger and stronger for a start." He pulled her face a little closer to his. "That counts for a lot, you know."

"I guess it does…" Angling her face as though she might give in and kiss him at any second, Lara laughed again, her hands graduating down until they lay flat on his shoulders. "But you are forgetting one little thing…"

"… And what's that?"

" _I'm faster._ " As soon as she spoke, Soap knew that it was a mistake. With what must have been all of her body weight, Lara pushed him backwards, sending them both toppling over as his back hit the mattress with a firm thud. With both of her hands still pressing his shoulders firmly into her bed, Lara manoeuvred herself above him, both of legs straddling his hips with ease. She gave him a self-satisfied grin, leaning down again so that her face was only inches from his. "And that **,**  kids, is how you outwit a bloody huge Scotsman…"

 _Fuck._  He sometimes felt like that smug smirk would be the end of him.

MacTavish was done being passive. In one fluid movement he reached upwards and pulled her face down to his, his mouth clashing against hers hungrily. For a moment Lara tried to fight with him, but as he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth she relented, more of her body weight resting on his as her hands lost their firm grip on his shoulders.

It was all Soap needed. Now that he was free he was able to hook his right arm around Lara's waist, the action giving him enough leverage to flip them over with ease. Through a combination of strength and physics he managed to lift Lara from the bed and slam her down onto the mattress, his body settling between her legs as she only kissed him back harder in earnest. He humoured her for a while before he pulled away, a fresh, shit eating grin forcing its way across his own features.

"You were saying, Dr McCoy?"

Bones' only response came in the form of a deliberate grind of her hips against his, one that sent spikes of electricity up and down his spine. Restraint was the furthest thing from Soap's mind.

His hands were suddenly free to roam across the body that he'd fantasised about for months. They started at Lara's shoulders, his thumbs following the ridges of her collarbones as he leaned down to kiss her again, the pressure of his mouth more teasing and light this time. His right hand ventured down her arm, across the expanse of firm muscle that made up her bicep and then along her forearm. When his fingers met hers, they laced together on instinct, the gesture oddly tender amongst a mass of frenzied kisses.

Without hesitation, Soap did the same with his other hand, until he held both of Lara's hands in his. In one fluid motion, he raised them above her head, holding them in place against the mattress. McCoy let out a startled gasp beneath him and Soap smiled into the kiss. Pulling away from her mouth, he angled his head to the side, placing of row of nips and sucks along her jawline and then down her neck. When he reached the joining of her neck and shoulder, Soap allowed himself to suck harder, confident in the knowledge that McCoy's uniform would hide any mark so long as she wore that hideously over **-** sized shirt.

Lara's reaction was worth it as she let out a soft groan. She struggled against his hands, her arms wriggling as she tested his grip. MacTavish laughed and lifted his head back up so that they could make eye contact again. He raised an eyebrow when McCoy answered him with little more than a pleading look and another grind against his hips.

Suddenly Soap wasn't sure whether he was teasing himself or Bones now.

What came next seemed to happen so fast, their movements hurried and clumsy. Their mouths still firmly together, Soap pulled Lara up into a sitting position, his hands quickly ridding her of her vest top. His t shirt was next as Lara desperately tried to yank it over his head, the garment temporarily becoming tangled in between them both. For a split second, MacTavish suddenly wondered just how much the smell of cigarettes on his shirt might bother Lara but his insecurities were soon lost as she moved forward and began kissing a long line down his neck. This time it was Soap's turn to groan. It was just like in his office, except this time with Lara's bare skin against his it was all he could do to just close his eyes and  _feel_.

He was pushing her backwards and tugging at her shorts impatiently, McCoy lifting her hips in a meagre effort to help him. With them out of the way, Soap's hand slipped back down, settling between her legs. Safe in the knowledge that they were alone in the infirmary, an indecent moan slipped from Lara's lips. He watched her carefully, the movements of his hand teasing and causing the medic to bite her lip. She blinked hard and met his gaze, moaning again before she pulled his mouth back down to hers.

He wouldn't have been able to tease her more even if he'd wanted to. The pace of his hand picked up considerably, his lips dropping down to litter her neck and chest with kisses. McCoy's back arched upwards into the action, a stream of expletives tumbling from her mouth. When her body finally went rigid and tense beneath him, she gripped his back hard, her fingers biting into his skin as his name left her mouth in a single, breathy gasp.

" _Fuck_ …" Her lips parting into a soft smile, Lara craned her neck upwards, pressing another lazy kiss to his mouth. Carefully manoeuvring himself, MacTavish lay on top of her body, his weight resting on his elbows either side of her head. Slowly, he tilted his head downwards and kissed another long line of kisses along her jawline and up to her left ear, his voice low when he finally chose to speak.

"Not bad for a bloody great Scotsman, right?"

"That depends…" Laughing breathlessly, Lara turned her head, meeting his gaze with a suggestive glance. "I wasn't under the impression that we were anywhere  _near_  finished."

This time, Soap allowed her to take control. She moved out from under him, her hands flat against his chest as she encouraged him to lie back down. Moving to straddle him, Lara leaned over his body, her mouth giving his left pectoral muscle an almost possessive nip, the skin instantly soothed as she pressed a soft kiss over the top. Her eyes looked back up to his when her hands moved lower, her fingers beginning to undo the fastenings of his combat trousers.

When it came to trying to get out of the offending clothes, Soap couldn't quite manage it fast enough.

He laid back, his hands stroking across Lara's back and shoulders and she continued to kiss her way down his chest. She took her time, her mouth moving slowly across his skin, her lips paying that little bit more attention to one of the large shrapnel scars that dominated his abdomen. The seconds seemed to slow, McCoy so obviously aware of just how impatient he was beginning to feel. When her head finally did settle over his crotch, Soap fought the urge to grip her shoulders in anticipation.

Soap wasn't sure what was the most torturous part about what came next. The way Lara slowly took him into her mouth, or the way that she maintained eye contact with him the entire time.

Any ideas he'd had about holding out seemed to slip away quickly. It was too long since he'd felt this, too long since he'd been able to just let his head fall back and become lost in something so intense and encompassing that he didn't need to think anymore. Slowly, his hands moved up to the back of Lara's head, his fingers tangling into her hair, the strands forming a soft mesh around his fingertips. McCoy seemed to take this as a hint and she moved her mouth that little bit faster, causing Soap's grip to tighten and a low groan to escape his mouth.

Suddenly, it was all just a little  _too much_.

" _Shit… Lara…_ " He didn't want to stop her, not really. But there he was, holding her head still in an attempt to make her look at him. He gave her what may have quite easily come across as a pleading look. " _Stop_ … It's too much…"

She understood immediately and crawled back up his body, a satisfied smirk plastered across her face the entire time. Pulling her head down to kiss her again, Soap kept her body tight against his, his hands clasped to either side of her face. When Lara bit at his bottom lip as he pulled away, he grinned, rolling them over so that he was back on top of her again. He allowed his hands to explore her skin, his right skimming across her left thigh, moving it so that her leg was bent around his waist. His eyes met hers and he moved forwards to kiss her again, the action heated and full of suggestion.

It was then when a loud buzzing finally came to his attention. At first, Soap tried to ignore it and the sound died momentarily, until it started up again, seemingly louder this time. Soon the noise was followed by a heavy, plastic clatter as Soap's phone tumbled off the edge of Lara's bedside table and to the floor.

"Fuck!" He was climbing over Lara and reaching for his phone with the simple thought to turn off the nuisance technology. But as Soap picked up the still ringing object and caught sight of the number, the Captain realised that this wasn't a call he could easily blow off.

"Captain MacTavish…"

" _I called your office first."_  Trojan's droll, if somewhat constantly judgemental voice was instantly recognisable.  _"Am I keeping you from something, Captain?"_

"Believe it or not, I find the time to sleep in my quarters." Soap grunted, earning him a stifled laugh from McCoy. He gave her a warning look. "What the hell's so important that you need me at two am?"

" _In short? Codename Sierra. Sleeping or not I expect you on a secure line within five minutes."_  Trojan's clipped tone didn't quite stop the sudden stab of dread that hit MacTavish's system.  _"Until then, Captain."_

The ominous dialling tone left in Trojan's wake did nothing to settle his nerves either.

He stood up in an instant, his hands quickly searching for his boxers and trousers so that he could pull them back on. Jamming his phone back into his back pocket, he turned to Lara as she handed him his t shirt, her body covered now covered by her loose white cotton sheets.

"What the fuck is going on, John?"

"I don't know, but it's bloody big." He pulled the fabric over his head, his eyes locking with hers again. "Something that they need a secure line to tell me about. For all I know these could be the fresh orders we've been waiting for."

"Then you need to go." Lara shook her head, obviously trying her hardest to not look even a little disappointed. She was a horrendous actress. "Command is going to get real pissy if you're not there to hear them."

"I know." He nodded bitterly, shoving his feet back into boots. He hovered for a moment before bending down and pressing the briefest of kisses to Lara's mouth, his left hand tilting her chin upwards. "…  _I'm sorry._ "

"Will you just  _fuck off_  and do your job already?" She smiled weakly, slapping at his back with one hand. "What's the point in banging one of your subordinates if they don't understand when duty calls?"

"Understood." He gave her a quick smile, already backing away. He appreciated the joke, even if he could see right through it. "I'll see you tomorrow, I promise."

" _Go!"_

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

Five minutes later, MacTavish was sitting in his office, surrounded by pure silence.

His hand was hovering over the phone. He knew that he should pick it up and dial the number, but something was stopping him, a feeling in the pit of his stomach that what he was about to hear was  _wrong_ , that somehow he wouldn't  _want_  to hear it. After all, he'd lied to Lara. He hadn't wanted to, but no matter how he felt about her, there were always going to be some things that he wouldn't be able to share with her, or at least not completely. This was one of those times. As much as he wished it wasn't, Codename Sierra was a lot more serious than simply an order for him to get onto a secure line. It was only to be used in emergencies, a code word that Shepard had never used for as long as MacTavish had been with the 141.

Swallowing, Soap finally picked up the phone and dialled. It would have started to ring if he hadn't anyway.

" _MacTavish…"_  Trojan's voice was back, as always a little too calm and measured for his liking.  _"7 minutes. You're late."_

"Spare me the pleasantries, mate." MacTavish spat. "Are you actually going to tell me what the hell's going on now?"

" _You could turn on a television set and it would tell you almost as much as I'm about to now. We're at **war** , MacTavish. As of just under an hour ago."_

"Excuse me?"

" _It was as we feared. The Russians cracked the ACS module you and your men recovered. They've led a coordinated attack on both the east and west coasts."_  Even Trojan wavered a little now.  _"They've caught us on the back foot."_

"Then what the hell do we do?"

" _For now, your position is secure. The Russians are working on securing the strategic sites they've already deployed men to. Intel suggests that they won't be pushing forward for some time, but as you can imagine it's sketchy at best. Even so, the General wants the entire task force out of the country as quickly as possible. You're to be redeployed to Site Hotel Bravo, a Shadow Company base."_

"And then what?"

" _You'll be leading the offensive against Makarov and his men."_  The spook stated blankly.  _"Whilst the US forces work on holding the Russians back the General wants you looking for Makarov and dragging his arse out for all the world to see. That way we might be able to restore a little sense to the world."_

"Petropavlovsk then?" Adrenaline was coursing through Soap's veins causing the hand holding the phone to shake. "We're going after 627?"

" _Indeed. Congratulations, Captain. You got what you asked for. Let's just hope that in the end it's all sodding worth it."_

 


	27. This Is War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

_**23rd August 2016** _

_**141's Base** _

_**0412 hours** _

Little over an hour before, the 141's world had been turned entirely on its head.

She'd been lying in bed, hours from sleep when there'd been a loud knock at her door, Roach's voice announcing that MacTavish had called an impromptu meeting in the rec room. The urgency in his tone had been very clear and Lara had had barely enough time to pull on a pair of fatigues, her hands scraping back her hair into a bun as she kicked her bedroom door shut. From there they'd walked to the rec room in silence, both equally confused by the strange and altogether irregular request from the Captain.

MacTavish had repeated the news twice. The first time Lara could have sworn that she hadn't heard him properly. The second time around left her feeling as though she'd been kicked in the stomach,  _hard_. A certain kind of numbness crept in after that. She didn't know what to think, what to  _feel_. The world was suddenly on the cusp of World War Three, thrown into confusion and disarray and yet there they were, caught somewhere between being trapped in the centre of it all and being oddly removed from the real action.

A sigh escaped Lara's lips, the sound erupting out into the early morning air. It was still dark outside and for the first time she could remember the base flood lights weren't switched on, the expanse of the tarmac separating the rec room and the infirmary oddly shrouded in darkness. Given the circumstances it proved to be an eerie sight.

Looking down, McCoy tested the weight of the bright yellow satellite phone in her hands. It felt weightier, clumsier than usual. She lifted it up towards her face, the buttons illuminated by the dim light that was managing to escape the rec room windows behind her. She'd waited the best part of an hour for her turn and now that she had the chance, her thumb was hovering hesitantly over the phone keys, her heart suddenly feeling as though it was caught in the back of her throat. Once again she felt trapped, caught between the desire to reassure the ones she loved and the fear of knowing that she would never truly be able to tell them what they wanted to hear the most.

With a sharp intake of breath, McCoy began to dial. She swallowed hard as she lifted the phone to her ear, her right hand trembling with a mixture of adrenaline and the cool night time air.

"Mum?" At least she'd managed to stop her voice from shaking.

"Lara!  _Christ_ , is that you?" The voice that greeted her was fraught to say the least, high pitched as it pierced her ears. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

"I'm fine, mum. I swear," sighing, she leant back against the barracks wall. "I can't talk for long…"

"It's all over the news. The war in America… The devastation. When I saw the headlines, I thought that you were-"

"I'm  _ok_ , mum," the words tumbled from her mouth with little thought. Bones had been able to tell her family that she was being posted out to the States, but aside from that she'd been unable to give them any real information on exactly  _where_  she'd be based. As soon as she'd heard of the Russian attack, Lara had known that her mother would assume the worst. "Try not to worry.  _Please._ "

" _Worry?!_  Do you realise how ridiculous you sound right now, Lara?  _I told you_. I can see the bloody news! I  _know_ what is happening out there!"

"Then you also know that I have a job to do," she cut in abruptly, immediately kicking herself for how insensitive she had sounded. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" She tailed off, at a complete loss of what to say. "I just wanted to reassure you before I was shipped out."

"Shipped out? Where are they sending you now?"

"To a new base. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you any more than that."

"Will you be safe?" The question felt as though it was bouncing through Bones' skull.

"Mum,  _please_ -"

"Answer me." Her mother's voice was weak, almost breaking on the other end of the phone. " _Promise me…"_

"I-I  _can_ _'_ _t_." A lump had already formed in McCoy's throat too and she swallowed, willing it to disappear. It only seemed to grow instead. "I'm so sorry, mum."

"Lara, please-"

"I have to go," she shook her head, her eyes watering. "The other's need the satellite phone too. Some of them can't reach their families and-" She swallowed again, harder and more determined this time. "I'll call you as soon as I can, I swear.  _Please_ , just… try not to worry about me. I'll be fine, really. I always am."

"Wait!  _Lara!_ "

"I love you, mum. David and Mark too… Just, take care for me, ok? I'll speak to you soon." And with that, Lara's thumb quickly cut off the call.

The hand that was holding the phone dropped heavily to Lara's side and she let out a prolonged sigh, her free hand moving up to pinch the bridge of her nose. She could feel the dampness of tears beginning to well in the corner of her eyes and Lara fought to chase them away, determined to bite back the sadness. But after the most difficult conversation of her career, maybe even her life, she was unable to stop a few scant tears from escaping her eyes.

There was the sound of the barracks door swinging shut to her right and Lara straightened up, her fingers immediately wiping at the wet streaks on her cheeks. She cleared her throat, partly to announce her presence and partly in a desperate attempt to try and dissipate the lump that had undeniably settled there. The intruder said and did very little, choosing instead to sit down on one of the steps. A second later there was the undeniable glow and clinking sound of a cigarette being lit in the gloom.

"Gary?" Roach's features became instantly recognisable as Lara's stepped out towards him. She watched him avoid her gaze as he continued to suck in a long, almost desperate drag from the cigarette. There was little need to ask him what was wrong. Unlike hers, Roach's family wasn't safely tucked away from the immediate danger of the war in the UK. They were trapped in the middle of it, stuck somewhere between the invading forces and a frantic evacuation and the last she had heard, Gary hadn't been able to contact them  _at all_.

Unsure of what else to do or say, Lara moved to Gary's side and sat down on the step too, just close enough that their legs were touching. She rested her forearms on her knees, hunching over and staring into the tarmac whilst attempting to conjure up the right combination of words that might somehow give her friend some peace of mind. It didn't take her long to realise that it was a near impossible task.

"It doesn't feel real," Roach spoke out blankly, his voice flat and monotone. "I've seen the footage, heard all the reports. The fighting… the  _invasion_ , is happening right now.  _Right here._ " He motioned to the air in front of him with his right hand, amber flecks of ash tumbling from the cigarette and onto the tarmac. "But there's nothing. It's still all so far away. It's like we're cut off. Trapped in a bubble where all the fighting is just happening to  _somebody else._ "

"…  _Gary-_ "

"This  _isn_ _'_ _t_  what I signed up for, Lara," he turned to her for the first time, his eyes glassy and shining with trapped tears. " _I_ _'_ _m_ the one who is supposed to be out there trying to fight their way through a war zone. Not my  _fucking family_." The hand holding the cigarette was shaking and Roach brought it hastily to his lips, sucking in one final drag before throwing it to the floor in disgust. He didn't stamp it out, instead letting it continue to smoulder on the ground, his eyes fixed on it as he watched it burn. "What if they didn't make it out? What if they're trapped or cornered somewhere? I should be there  _protecting_  them." He shook his head. "Miri's only sixteen… She shouldn't have…"

"Gary.  _Stop_ …" In truth, McCoy still didn't know what to say, but she knew that she had to say  _something._  She was watching Roach crumble before her very eyes, something she had never seen during the entirety of their friendship. She didn't have the words he needed and she wasn't able to lie and reassure him either. The only thing she  _did_ have was the ability to at least try and endure the experience with him. To somehow pick up the pieces and help keep him strong.

She couldn't remember the last time they'd actually hugged. Mostly they exchanged friendly slaps on the arm or back, maybe the odd squeezed shoulder if they were truly alone. But none of that mattered as Lara reached forwards for Roach's shoulders, pulling him backwards towards her. He somehow twisted in the process and his chin ended up resting on her right shoulder. For a second or so, that was all it was, until finally Gary reciprocated, his arms slipping around her waist and pulling her that little bit closer. He didn't cry, or at least not openly. But the way he held her made Lara feel like the sister he felt so separated from. Caught between thoughts for his family and thoughts of her own, Lara pressed her face into his shoulder too, drawing as much solace out of the embrace as she hoped she was giving him.

"We're going to end this, you hear me?" Lara spoke out quickly, pulling away from him so that she could look him in the eye, her voice grim and determined. "You want to be out there fighting, I get that. But we both know that we have a  _bigger_  part to play in all this." She held his shoulders, her words suddenly as much for her as they were for him. "We're the only people who know about Allen. The only people who know what Makarov has  _done_. And we're going to catch him. We're going to slap him in chains and drag him out of the shadows and parade his sorry arse around for the bloody world to see. Your family will be there when that happens and I promise you that they'll be damned proud of the guy who did his job, even when he felt like everything he loved had gone to shit," she tried to give him her best smile, her hands squeezing his shoulders. "Because God knows, I will be."

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

By rights, he should have dragged everyone into the operations room for an official debrief. But with the base soon to be abandoned and the fact that the 24 hour news channels had managed to tell everyone the majority of what he had to say, Soap had pretty much decided that standard protocol meant  _fuck all_ , at least for the time being.

He'd wanted to call his parents, painfully aware that by now at least his mother would be sick with worry. But he also needed his men at their best and that meant that they needed as few distractions as possible. Therefore, MacTavish had decided to make use of what could possibly be their only quiet spell for a long time, prioritising the satellite phone so that every man had the chance to try and call their family at least once before they were shipped out. Being Captain and against his own selfish desires, Soap had nominated himself to be the last in line for the phone.

"We're headed to fucking 'Stan. 'Bout as far from the frontlines as pissing possible." Archer grunted to whoever was listening. He took a long sip of whisky from the tumbler in his hand. Everyone in the rec room had followed suit with an equally stiff drink upon hearing the news.

"And Makarov's hardly going to be standing on the frontlines himself," Riley chipped in, kicking back in his seat. Like Soap he was trying to appear over confident and in control, but the Captain deeply suspected that he was nervous as the rest of them in reality. "Shepherd's no idiot. He knows we're more use away from the fight."

"But a fucking  _SC_  base?" Toad pitched in, rolling his eyes. "War's on our doorstep but we're being sent to go and shine those ass lickers' boots?"

"We're going to secure 627. As far as every man in this task force is concerned, our objective hasn't changed," Soap cut in before the conversation escalated, his right hand rubbing at his eyes. None of them had slept and he knew that at least half of the annoyance in his tone was from fatigue more than anything else. He dropped his head forwards, an attempt to stretch out the tension that was building at the base of his neck. "Shadow Company has their own objectives. Unless they're providing us with back up then there's no reason for us to concern ourselves with them. Understood?"

" _Sir_ …"

There was a small spell of quiet then. They were all under stress and yet Soap was sure that his men could read him well enough to see it written right across his features, despite his attempts to hide it. Contemplating whether or not another cigarette would calm his nerves, MacTavish twirled his lighter around in his right hand, the metal object spinning in his fingers. The small, continuous action at least stopped him from fidgeting further, his body heavy with the need to sleep and yet strangely awake thanks to the cocktail of adrenaline coursing through his blood. Once again, it was the waiting that was irritating him. He wanted to move, to do  _something_ , to be in Petropavlovsk already. After all, if he was dodging bullets then his mind would be focused on survival, on the next fifty yards. The waiting only gave his thoughts a chance to wander, to dwell and linger on family and the fears that he so often tried to push aside.

There was a soft 'thud' in the distance, the noise instantly recognisable as the barracks main doors sliding shut. Seconds later, Roach and Bones were at the rec room door. They didn't stand on ceremony, instead heading straight for the kitchen counter opposite him, Roach pouring them both a small measure of whisky almost automatically.

He met Lara's gaze as soon as she leant back against the counter, her right hand accepting the glass from Roach. Her face was pale and drawn, the white of her skin serving to further accentuate the sleepless dark rings around her eyes. By now she was a world away from how she'd been barely three hours before, although that did nothing to stop him from wanting to walk over there and talk to her. Hell, he wanted to do more than that. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to remind himself that at least  _they_  hadn't changed, that even though the world was falling to pieces around them he still had some stability to hold onto when he felt as though the fears in his head were all he had. And yet, his professionalism had to come first. It would _always_  have to come first. He'd just never expected it to be so fucking  _painful_.

He looked away before she could read him, throwing his head back so that he could drain his glass of the remaining whisky. He closed his eyes, the heated liquid searing down his throat and sending a shiver rocketing down his spine. Price's voice temporarily sounded in his thoughts. The old man had always said that whilst a good shot of whisky would never really solve anything, that didn't mean that it couldn't at least create the _illusion_  that it could. The memory served to both comfort and unsettle him. After all, right then Soap would have given anything to have Price being the one giving  _him_  orders.

"Call them…" The sudden voice startled him and Soap opened his eyes, his body leaning backwards slightly when he realised that Lara was now stood directly in front of him.

"What?"

" _Your family…_ " She spoke again, waving the satellite phone in front of his face. He hadn't even realised that she still had it. "Just call them, ok?"

"I can't." He shook his head, indicating to the room around them with both hands. He glanced around at the others, although they were all talking amongst themselves, their low voices forming a soft backdrop of noise.

"Take a look around, sir," she spoke deliberately, her voice respectful. "We're doing nothing but waiting here." He'd opened his mouth to speak but she was too quick for him, cutting in before he could physically force out the words. "And speaking on behalf of your men, we can manage without you for ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?"

" _Yes…_ " She pushed the satellite phone out towards him, tapping it against his chest gently. "A couple more hours and we'll be shipping out into God knows what. You don't know when you're going to have the chance again," she bit her lip. "Just tell them that you're ok. You owe them that at least, right?"

" _Thanks…_ " He took the satellite phone from her, pushing off from the counter in the process. He didn't trust himself to say more and so instead he simply nodded to her gratefully, nudging past her in an attempt to reach the rec room door. After all, this sure as hell wasn't a conversation he'd want to have in front of his men.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

_**23th August 2016** _

_**Site Hotel Bravo, 76 miles north-east of Bagram, Afghanistan** _

_**2240 hours** _

They'd had the best part of the three hours to prepare before they were shipped out. After 7389 miles and a good dose of Zaleplon their C 17 transport had finally touched down in Kabul. From there, a Shadow Company Pave Low had covered the rest of the distance to Site Hotel Bravo.

It had felt like a day of nothingness, lost amongst the metallic shell of an aircraft. For Soap, it had just been too damned  _quiet_.

He'd been given very little information on Site Hotel Bravo, his instructions more focused on what kit to instruct his men to bring. The first thing that struck him was the sheer amount of sand that surrounded them, the sharp, gritty particles swept up in a whirlwind as the chopper came in to land. The air was cold, the sky grey and dusky, the desert sun long since lost behind the mountains on the horizon. In front of him was little more than a cave, a dark gouge out of the imposing rock formation in front of them.

"Captain MacTavish…" Over the noise of the slowing chopper blades, Soap recognised a familiar, if condescending tone.  _Trojan._  The man jogged towards him, his body clad in black SC combat armour that seemed to do nothing but increase the width and stocky appearance of his torso. On his face was the same, almost pursed smile that he always seemed to wear when addressing anyone wearing 141 insignia, his arms spread out in an almost amused fashion. "Welcome to Afghanistan."

"I could do without the pleasantries," Soap grunted. He might have managed some drug induced sleep on their journey, but that didn't mean that he had any more patience for the spook's games than usual. "Just tell me and my men where the hell we're supposed to go."

"You're no  _fun_ , John."

"We're at war and you want me to be fun?"

"No, but didn't your parents ever teach you the importance of putting a good face on for all this shit?" Trojan rolled his eyes, beckoning the Captain after him. "Where's your stiff upper lip?"

"I'm  _Scottish_ … I was brought up dour and moody."

"A fair point," Trojan shrugged, striding off towards the base entrance and simply expecting Soap to follow. "And luckily for you, this is the land of the dour and moody."

At least MacTavish couldn't argue with that one. The base's entrance was little more than what looked to be the opening into a cliff face, long lines of electric cables stapled to the cave roof and walls. As they walked further into the base, things only became more jury rigged and makeshift. Pushed to each side of the "corridors" were generators and crates, artificial flood lights throwing out spheres of light every couple of meters or so. Some of the walls were reinforced with cinder block making the cave feel almost like a bunker and accentuating the growing claustrophobic feel of the base as they continued to make their way further inside.

"We've set up some bunks in the western half of the base for you and your men," Trojan added, guiding them left at a fork in the corridor. "There's a camping stove for your water and ration packs." He led them past a small alcove where a group of soldiers were huddled around a small TV screen, the air thick with cigarette smoke. "All weapons and equipment requisitions need to come through Shadow Company. In short, that means  _me._ " He gave the Captain a curt nod.

"Where's the Operations room?" MacTavish asked.

"Other side of the base, although that's not something you're going to need to know. General Shepherd doesn't want to mix SC and 141 affairs, so he's requested that you don't use the base's official ops room."

"And so where the hell are we supposed to work?"

"We've outfitted a separate room with everything you'll need." Soap didn't like the almost satisfied smile that Trojan gave with his response. "Table, chairs, intel. We're fighting a war the old fashioned way here, MacTavish." He veered left at another junction, leading them into a slightly more open area, filled with nine green bunks and little else. "You're quarters."

" _No place quite like home_ ," Ghost muttered, just loud enough for MacTavish to hear. Trojan either didn't hear the comment or chose to ignore it regardless.

"I've taken the liberty of putting some information you might find interesting in your ops room. It's just at the end there, you can't miss it." The spook gave Soap another half-smile.

"Understood."

"General Shepherd is insisting on leading the counter strike himself. He'll be flying in for 0700 hours, tomorrow morning. I suggest that you and your men are ready for a briefing when he arrives."

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

McCoy had never really understood the 141's almost knee jerk animosity towards Shadow Company. And yet two hours at their base and she was desperately trying to stop herself from bitching about them with the other men. With every minute longer they spent at Site Hotel Bravo, Lara was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her mouth  _shut_.

The night air was beginning to cool slightly, but in reality it was no colder than a summer's night back home in York. Even so, their surroundings did little to lift anyone's mood. If the constant smell of dust and cement weren't enough, the indifferent looks they received from every SC operative served to rile the men further. Shadow Company didn't approve of intruders on their turf it seemed, especially those that proudly wore 141 insignia.

That being said, had their roles been reversed Lara sincerely doubted that the 141's attitude would have been all that better…

They should have been sleeping but the fifteen hour journey to Afghanistan had screwed with everyone's sleep pattern. As a result most of the men were either lounging around on their hard, moss green bunks or gathered around a small crate playing cards. Their almost insatiable need to gamble with both their lives and their supplies never ceased to amuse McCoy. The only man who wasn't participating in any shape or form was MacTavish. About an hour after Trojan had finished their tour, he'd last been seen disappearing off into their ops room, soft light emanating out of the connecting doorway and giving away his position.

 _Ops room._  The name alone made Lara want to roll her eyes. Little more than a storage area, the room was lined with stacked crates that bore all the hallmarks of being hastily shoved aside to clear some space. A solitary light bulb hung from the ceiling, illuminating a large fold up table and several metal chairs. There was nowhere near enough space to seat the entire task force or at least not all at once anyway.

"And you mock my taste in bed time reading," Lara smirked, her arms folded against her chest as she leant back against the ops room door. MacTavish was sat at the table, his back half to her, hunched over a particularly large pile of papers and drawings. His shoulders were rounded, a pencil hanging idly from the left corner of his mouth as he worked. At the sound of her voice he quirked his head to the side, his lips curling up into a small smile as he spoke around the object.

"I'm brushing up on my history."

"Now maybe isn't the best time to be thinking about a career move," McCoy teased, kicking off from the wall. She drew that little bit closer although she was sure to stop at the edge of the table, sub consciously giving him the opportunity to tell her that he needed to concentrate.

" _Very funny_ _,_ " The pencil dropped from his mouth as he shook his head. "You're a regular Billy Connelly. Your sense of humour's wasted on the army."

"Now who's cracking jokes?" She cocked an amused eyebrow. "But anyway, why the history lesson?"

"It's intel or at the very least the history of the Gulag 627's banged up in." He retrieved the pencil from the table top and took it in his left hand, circling a specific spot on the map resting on the very top of the pile of paper. "Here, I'll show you." He angled the map towards the empty seat beside him.

"Classified?"

"Not for the 141." He shook his head and Lara moved in closer, sitting down beside him. She was careful to keep a healthy bit of distance between them regardless of how much she wanted to lean into him. "I'm planning on sharing it all with the lads as soon as possible, I just wanted to try and get my head around it all first."

"Makes sense," McCoy nodded, sliding the map closer so that she could peer at it that little bit more closely. She was almost immediately ashamed that the Russian coastline was one that she only vaguely remembered from high school. "I can't say that my Russian history is all that great."

"Mine's sketchy at best. But there's a long history to this building and believe me, not much of it's  _pretty_." He was reaching for another document now, nimble fingers bringing the Gulag's blue prints to the top of the pile, his right forefinger tracing the thick line of the it's courtyard walls. "It started out as a castle with an actual dungeon; built to withstand any siege. Craftsmanship even a Scot would be proud of." She saw a small smile play out across his lips at his own joke. "The building managed to survive every brutal winter. But the occupants… well, they weren't so  _lucky_."

"Doesn't sound as though they're any luckier nowadays either."

"Maybe not." He flicked through the papers until he found a copy of an old black and white photograph, the harsh grayscale of the badly copied image robbing it of all depth and posterity. However, through the grey smears, Lara could make out a large group of soldiers standing to attention outside what she assumed to be the Gulag, their commanding officer on horseback in the foreground. "Looks as though it became a monastery, although that didn't survive the purges."

"And so now it's a prison?" Lara tilted her head to one side, her face inquisitive.

"Pretty much. Over the last century it's played host to anyone the government didn't want but couldn't kill. Now the place is filled with casualties of the last war… which I  _swear_  I thought we'd won," he leant back in his chair, a long sigh escaping his mouth. "But I suppose it's all a day at the races. You back the losing horse and this is where you end up."

"The Civil War, right? August 2011?"

"When the Ultranationalists started kicking up a right old fuss, yeah. You weren't in the military back then?"

"I'd just been accepted into Sandhurst. That Summer I'd have been somewhere in South East Asia, I guess," she laughed when he gave her a confused look. "I went back packing with my then boyfriend."

"You're a walking cliché." He teased.

"I'd just finished my medical degree. I sure as hell wasn't spending my last summer of freedom stuck working some poxy shop assistant job."

"True, but could you be any more middle class?" He threw an amused grin in her general direction, laughing that little bit more when she returned it with a bitter stare. "Ok, Ok. Maybe I'm just a little bit jealous. Or feeling old. Back then I'd just made the SAS."

"Oh yeah?" Lara quirked an eyebrow, a long forgotten, offhand memory suddenly triggering in her mind. "I heard Archer and Ghost say something about a six day crisis five years ago…" She watched him carefully. "They were the same thing right? You were there, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"OPSEC, sorry," he shook his head softly. "I still can't mention specifics. A lot of it was off the books." He bit his lip, obviously noticing the curiosity that remained in Lara's features. "I guess it's not news to you that if we were involved then some real shit was kicking off. We were so close to World War Three. Turns out we just delayed it by five years in the end."

"You lost friends that day, didn't you?" There was something in MacTavish's voice that she picked up on and recognised, a saddened tone that she remembered from when he'd spoke about Chemo, Meat, or Royce.

" _Aye_ … Our exfil went tits up in a big way. There was an explosion, shrapnel damn near tore me to bloody shreds," he indicated to his scarred eyebrow with his left thumb. "We lost a lot of good blokes that day. It felt like my fault… still does if I'm being totally honest. One of my mates took a bullet to the forehead when he was trying to lay down some cover for me. I just remember watching him fall. And then there was Gaz…" He sighed, his right palm briefly swiping across his face, the thumb and fore finger rubbing at his eyes. "You know when you replay a moment over and over? And every single time you see a hundred and one things you could have done differently, even if in reality they would have made fuck all difference? He was laid out injured in front of me and they executed him, just right  _there_ , you know? I barely flinched at the time but for the next month, I'd see that gunshot every time I closed my eyes."

"John…"

"It's funny," he answered with a distinct, dark laugh. "I don't really remember the pain. I just have these snapshots in my head. Half of the time it feels like I was never even there."

"You must have lost a lot of blood."

"And the rest. Don't tell me that you didn't notice the scars on my back."

"I was distracted." Bones retorted with a quick smile, although in reality the sheer number of scars littering his torso had puzzled her the night before.

"Course you were," he shrugged, stretching out his shoulders individually in the process. "I'm sorry, anyway. Last thing we need right now is me living in the past. I mean, I didn't even know these blokes before I became SAS. I knew Gaz from selection I guess but…" He shook his head, his voice trailing off. "… But yeah, they were decentblokes."

"You sound as though you've never told anyone this before."

" _I haven_ _'_ _t_. It's a little difficult to put it all in context when I can't say where we were or why we were even there," he gave her a small smile. "Once I was stable they bundled me off to the medical hospital in Birmingham. Carrie practically lived in a hotel while I was there, but even then we didn't  _talk._  Not about what had happened to me anyway. She didn't ask and in fairness I didn't want to tell her."

"… Carrie?"

"My fiancée…" He seemed to take a great deal of care in watching Lara's reaction. "I've got a feeling that she wasn't… well… your  _type_  of girl."

"Full of surprises, aren't you?" Lara smirked, nudging him with her arm. She was determined to hide just how much her stomach had flipped with an emotion far too close to jealousy. "Is that why you called it off? Because of the whole not talking thing?"

"No. Well, it helped I guess," he shook his head. "But she wanted me to leave the SAS. That much was clear from the day I left hospital. And I know why she wanted that. She wanted to settle down, plan the wedding, have kids. She wanted me  _safe_ ," he let out a prolonged sigh. "But the truth is, leaving was the furthest thing from my mind back then. All I could think about was getting quicker, stronger,  _fitter_. I just wanted to get back out there and do Gaz and all the other lads proud… From there, well I guess we could only ever grow apart considering how stubborn I was."

" _Are._  How stubborn you  _are_." Bones corrected, a smirk playing out across her lips.

"And you can talk? You're stubborn even by 141 standards." He laughed at her incredulous expression.

"I suppose that means that we're evenly matched then, you and me," Lara saw him lift his eyebrows at the hidden implication of what she'd just said and stuttered slightly, eager to try and explain herself. If she could have loosened the collar of her shirt, she would have. "I-I mean as CO and medic… Both professions where we have to order people around after all."

"Lara…  _please_ …" He gave her a warm, if weary smile. For the briefest of moments his hand found her right forearm and squeezed gently. "The world's gone to shit. You don't have to walk on eggshells around me too."

"And you and me made a promise; work first. Remember?"

" _I know._ But that doesn't mean we can't think about what might have been."

"True," she gave him her best smile, hoping that the action was enough to stop her features from looking quite so uneasy. "In that case, I'll look you up in that veteran's home in about… what, fifty years?"

"It's a date. Just listen out for the room blasting out some AC-DC; that'll be me."

"Planning on growing old disgracefully, eh?" She laughed, slapping his arm. " _I like it._ "

"Sounds like we have a plan." There was a new voice from the doorway and Lara spun around on instinct.  _Riley._  He was without his mask and although his face seemed blank of any real emotion his tone hadn't sounded particularly angry. Even so, McCoy leaned that little bit further away from MacTavish on instinct.

"If you call swimming in intel a plan, then sure." MacTavish nodded.

"The Gulag?" Ghost was stepping into the room with self-assured steps.

"Aye, also known as the  _'_ _Complete Bloody History Of_ _'_ ," The Captain motioned to the other chair on his right for the lieutenant to sit down. "Only thing we could do with knowing more about is  _who_  is exactly there and  _what_  system the base operates on. As it is 627 could be in the bloody kitchens for all we know."

"Do we have  _any_  systems intel?"

"Just this, mate. Here," he handed a single sheet of paper to Ghost, sliding it across the table in one fluid motion. "From what I can tell it's a brief systems spec, but I'll be damned if I can understand half the jargon on it."

"Gimme a sec…" Riley paused, hunching over the piece of paper, his head resting on his right hand. He squinted, a brief hiss escaping his lips. " _Jesus_ … This hardware is  _ancient_."

"Sorry?"

"If this is the hardware and systems that they still have in place…" He gave MacTavish an irritated look. "Trust me when I say that finding  _anything_  should be fun."

"Can you hack into them?"

"In theory, yeah. As long as the control room is up and running. Otherwise, we're fucked."

"Great…" Lara chipped in, shaking her head. She'd been momentarily bemused by the entire situation. "So we charge in all guns blazing and  _then_  find out what we're dealing with?"

"Looks like it," Soap sighed. "Like I said, I've got all this intel aside from what we actually  _need_."

"I can handle the systems, although it's gonna take some time. We're going to need to buy that from somewhere for sure."

"A distraction?" McCoy asked.

"Would be useful, but not this time…" MacTavish shook his head. "Looks as though this is going to be an all out assault."

"The lads aren't going to like it, sir," Riley said grimly. "Running in like a bat out of hell, it's not our style."

"It's not the Regiment's style either. You know as well as I do that the Seven P's were drilled into us all from day one."

"Proper Planning and Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance," Lara laughed weakly. "I swear I used to say that in my sleep back in the day."

"And it's kept you alive ever since." Riley reminded her.

"It'll keep us alive yet," MacTavish tapped at the papers on his desk quickly with his right hand. "There's more unknowns then we're used to, sure. But we plan for every single bloody scenario we can think of, same as always. The last thing the Russian's will expect is a full on assault whilst America struggles back onto its feet. Use that to our advantage and we can just about do this."

"Who dares wins, right?"

"Aye," Soap smiled, shaking his head in what appeared to be realisation. "Price would have been proud of that one at least."

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

Six hours later and McCoy was huddled around that same Ops room table, although this time she was standing in between Roach and Rook. In front of them sat MacTavish, Ghost, and Archer, with General Shepherd and Trojan both sitting beside them. There was another man who she only knew as Worm, a US Navy SEAL who was to lead their part in what was clearly going to end up being a joint operation.

"The assault on the Gulag will have full US Navy support as promised, MacTavish," Shepherd nodded. "Sixth fleet will create the necessary window for you and your team to extract 627."

"A full on counter strike," Trojan added, pushing a blue and white map into the centre of the table. McCoy was too far away to appreciate the smaller details, but even from her vantage point behind the others she could see a variety of white arrows, all circling towards and around the Gulag's location on the map. "F-15s will be giving air support in addition to the Navy's bombardment. All ground forces will insert with Little Birds. Any SAM sites will either be eliminated by the F-15s or by the teams on board the helicopters."

"Understood, sir," Soap nodded quickly, although you didn't have to be a mind reader to know that he wasn't exactly relishing the idea of being caught in a helicopter playing chicken with SAM sites on their approach. "Once inside, my team will lead a ground assault. We'll push on and clear the main courtyard until we get  _here_ …" He traced what looked to be the largest entrance with his fore finger. "It's the most direct route into the main body of the Gulag and the closest entrance to what looks to be the main control room. I'll need someone covering our backs while we're in there."

"I can give you two teams," Worm spoke up. "They can cover the entrance and clear the surrounding buildings for you, stop your team being boxed in. The rest of my squad and I will help you clear the prison cells inside."

"Do we have any more leads on 627's location?" Shepherd asked in his usual measured tone.

"Nothing concrete, sir. Chances are he'll be on one of the lower levels, but from the information we have that's all guess work," MacTavish indicated towards Riley sitting on his right. "Once in the main control room, Ghost will try and hack into their systems whilst a couple of my men stay behind and cover him. We'll push on through the cells whilst he works. Once we have 627's location we can exfil out by either falling back the way we came in and regrouping with the SEALs or through  _here_ ," He pointed to an area on the north east side of the Gulag. "Where ever we encounter the least resistance."

"Good," the General folded his arms. "All that remains is to clear your approach." As the he was speaking Trojan pushed another map across the table towards them, four structures that looked like small islands circled clearly. "The Russian coastline is protected. There's no reaching the Gulag without clearing a path through."

"Oil rigs, sir?" MacTavish raised a scarred eyebrow.

"Russian's are using them as SAM sites. The oil workers are human shields so we can't just blow up the rigs wholesale…"

"So we need to move in and secure each rig?" Ghost asked bluntly.

"In short, yes. The SEALs will handle three of the rigs and I need you to take the other. A covert operation, no more than eight men, four of those from the 141. You work your way up; secure the hostages and then we can move in and disable those SAMs."

"What about the rest of my team for the Gulag assault?" Soap questioned. "I'm going to need more than three of my men there."

"As soon as you radio in that those SAMs are cleared, the rest of the assaulting teams will muster and converge on the Gulag. You can RV with the rest of your team there."

"Sir."

"You're to insert by sub just before dawn, the low light will give you a little more cover," Trojan added. "Your kit has already been acquired and assembled for the dive."

"I know I'm sending you into the meat grinders with this one…" The General leaned forwards, his voice about as apologetic as it was ever going to get. The cynic in McCoy doubted that he ever really felt apologetic anymore.

"They're defending it, so it means we want it. Especially if it gets us to 627," MacTavish interrupted, rolling his shoulders in the process. "I think I can speak for every one of my men when I say that that is  _all_  we care about right now, sir."

"We all know what this intel means to you, MacTavish. Keep it quick and clean and you'll have done the men you lost proud." Shepherd stood up decisively, his actions quickly mirrored by Trojan. "I'll leave you to prepare. Dismissed, gentlemen."

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

_**25th August 2016** _

_**Rally Point Alpha** _

**Kamchatka Peninsula, Russia**

**0650 hours**

_Click_. Archer lit up another cigarette, his left hand flicking the lid of his lighter closed with ease. He took in two short puffs before handing it to Toad, the rolled paper held firmly between his thumb and fore finger.

McCoy shivered and turned that little bit further away. Normally smoke didn't bother her all that much, but after sitting around for an hour with the two snipers chain smoking in front of her she was beginning to tire of the smell.

That being said, the little flicker of warmth every time Archer clicked open his lighter was definitely something to be envied. Flexing her fingers within the confines of her gloves, Bones tried to shake off the numbed feeling beginning to creep into her fingertips.

Considering the fact that the majority of her military career had been spent fighting in a desert, the heavy winter gear she had now been issued felt oddly cumbersome. The cold also brought back some associations that she hadn't thought about for a long time, memories of her training weekends at Sandhurst, sat on stag in the freezing cold all night with the most pretentious soldier she'd ever known for company. Oddly enough, he'd been a smoker too.

Shifting in her seat Lara tried to remember the last time she had felt properly warm. Back at Site Hotel Bravo, they'd been getting their kit ready, two teams preparing to go their separate ways; MacTavish, Ghost, Roach, and Ozone headed for the oil rigs, while the rest of them prepared for the Gulag. She could still feel the same lingering sense of unease in the pit of her stomach, the worry that always seemed to accompany operations where the team was forced to split into two. Lara wasn't exactly sure when she'd become so dependent on the men of the 141, but there was no denying the realisation now that it had hit her.

" _I hope you've said goodbye to your balls," Archer joked in passing, nudging Riley as he finished suiting up in his dry suit. "Because where you're headed there'll be frozen off in seconds…"_

" _Fuck you, mate," Ghost shook his head. "At least I 'ave some to start with."_

" _Ouch…" Toad smirked. "Finally, Jeff's secret is out."_

_McCoy had simply rolled her eyes, although she would be lying if she said that the exchange hadn't amused her, if only a little. Scanning the room, she'd seen MacTavish by the far wall, his hands busily attempting to zip up his own suit. A short war waged in her head as to whether she should speak to him before Bones quickly reprimanded herself. After all, what had he said before about walking on eggshells?_

" _I hear all black body suits are making a comeback," she smiled when he whirled round to face her. "It's nice to see that you're so on trend."_

" _Bloody hilarious," MacTavish rolled his eyes. "Although I'm not so sure that all the accessories are going to match."_

" _A true fashion faux-pas," McCoy laughed, folding her arms and leaning back against the wall. "Just try not to accessorise it with red. I'm too lazy a doctor for that."_

" _If this is you telling me to take care then I appreciate it," Soap smiled, finally meeting her gaze properly. He straightened up, his eyes seemingly conveying a bounty of emotions that he would never truly be able to voice. "Are you all ready?"_

" _As we'll ever be. I've checked my equipment so many times that a normal person might accuse me of having OCD," She laughed quickly. "So I figure that I'll check it another couple of times. Just to be sure, you know?"_

" _The Seven P's again, eh?"_

" _It's kept me alive, don't you know?"_

" _You're beginning to sound like a real soldier, careful."_

" _Perish the thought," she shook her head. "But yeah. For the record, I'll take care too."_

" _Good," the Captain nodded, moving a step closer. "Have you spoken to the others?"_

" _Only briefly. I guess we all just had our heads down kitting up."_

" _And what about Roach?" MacTavish lowered his voice that little bit more. "How's he doing?"_

" _It depends. Is this you asking as his CO or his friend?"_

" _His friend."_

" _In that case, he's… okay," she let out a soft sigh. "He's just quiet. **Really**  quiet. I keep catching him just… I don't know, staring out into space? It's understandable, I just wish there was something more I could do or say."_

" _All we can do is watch out for him," he frowned. "But Roach is a good bloke. His head might be somewhere else, but I don't doubt for a second that he can't pull it together for this operation."_

" _He'll appreciate that. I think it meant a lot to him that you chose him for the oil rig op."_

" _Roach was a no brainer. He's got some good experience from Delta that is going to be invaluable here. I wouldn't want to go in there without him."_

" _Still… I think the belief helped," she nodded softly, pushing off from the wall. "Right now, we're all he's got."_

" _The sad truth is that right now that's the same for all of us. No one knows what's going to hit us or where we're going to end up. If we can't pull together as a team now, we never will."_

" _I think that's the one thing we **don** **'** **t**  have to worry about," Lara indicated to the team around them quickly. "If I were Makarov, I'd be shitting bricks right now."_

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

Their exchange hadn't been all that long ago and yet to McCoy it still felt like a lifetime away. Partially because of the cold that was slowly beginning to creep into her bones and partly because even though she believed in Roach completely, worry still sat heavily at the back of her thoughts. Like MacTavish, she had complete faith in him, in his professionalism, and especially in his capabilities as a soldier. And yet at the same time, she couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if it was  _her_  family trapped in a war zone. All it would take would be one tiny slip, one moment of mindlessness and in an instant everything could and _would_  go wrong. Even though doubting Roach made her sick to her stomach, McCoy simply couldn't stop herself from doing it all the same.

_She just couldn't lose him too._

The crackling of a radio in the distance dragged Lara's attention back into the present. She spun round with Archer and Toad, their eyes resting on Rook, his body bent over the radio, his left hand outstretched towards them in a silent plea for quiet. Suddenly McCoy's heart was hammering against her rib cage.

"They've done it," Rook finally nodded after what had felt like an eternity. "The SAM sites are down. We're bloody going in."

"And the team?"

"All accounted for."

"Then this is it," Archer nodded decisively, flicking the remainder of his cigarette away and standing while he made a quick grab for his kit. "Let's fucking  _do_  this."

As Bones moved to retrieve her own rifle, she tried to push aside the feeling of relief that had suddenly flooded her system. After all, even though MacTavish's team had been successful, now wasn't the time for resting on their laurels and congratulations. It was a time for adrenaline and hand shaking nerves. After all, the oil rigs had only been a warm up. The Gulag was the true main event and everything was still all to play for.

Archer was right. This was  _ **it**_.

 


	28. Us or Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

There was a leak in the ceiling somewhere.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Sometimes the rhythm would be off. Sometimes the resulting sound would be so quiet that his heart would skip a beat as he strained to hear it. It was a strange thing set against the silent room. At first it hadn't even been noticeable. Then it had become an annoyance. And now it was almost a comfort, an indicator of the passage of time in an otherwise timeless place. The distinct click of an endless countdown.

If he'd had the heart left, John Price would have allowed himself a small laugh.

He'd lost all recollection of time itself in that place. The thick, stone walls had stripped him of a great many things. First, they took his freedom. Then they took his dignity. Now they had all but swallowed up time itself. There was only that distant dripping, proof that somewhere the seconds were still passing.

None of this had come as any real surprise. He'd known that it was over the second that blinding black bag had been forced over his head. A hard blow to the back of his skull was the last thing he remembered.

To the few civilian friends he'd been drinking in the pub with that evening, his disappearance would be a mystery. There'd be no trail for anyone to follow, not that anyone would notice for a good few weeks even so. He'd be another missing person, a fleeting trace across one street's CCTV feed.

He could count the number of people who would miss him on one hand. It was a perk of the job after all. The legacy of a man who gave everything to the Army and never once asked for anything in return.

 _Soap._ The last time they'd spoken they hadn't parted on the best of terms. After Zakhaev, Soap had been handed everything; a promotion and command of a new task force. Price himself had received his marching orders and was  _politely_  informed that his time with the SAS had come to an end. They'd remained friends and yet at the same time Price had always resented the regret that he felt whenever he spoke to Soap. He wanted to rise above it, to just be proud of him like he knew he was. But the reality that MacTavish possessed what Price felt he  _needed,_  that he was still the young man that Price ached to be seemed to be one that they could never really escape. The last time they'd spoken, the day that he had returned from yet another dull as dishwater security detail had not been one of Price's finest moments. He'd been deliberately distant and petty, a regret that now served to haunt him the most during his waking hours in the gulag.

The distinct smell of cigarettes assaulted his nostrils, cheap ones at that. He glanced up from his position on the fold away chair in the centre of the room. There was only one guard now. He looked unperturbed, his eyes still focused on Price whilst he smoked. John tilted his head away in an attempt to avoid eye contact. Meeting his captors gaze usually lead to a good couple of punches to his face, a mistake he had made too many times judging by the dried blood that still clotted his nostrils. Hanging his head, Price's eyes fell to the chains that held his wrists together. He flexed his hands ever so slightly. There was just enough length to wrap around a man's neck…

An attempt at escape would be useless. There were too many walls, gates and doors and never once had he ever been allowed to see anything more of the gulag than the confines of his cell or the interrogation room. He had literally nowhere to run and even fewer places to hide. And after his incarceration even Price was forced to admit that he was in no state to try and tackle the number of guards that he would have to in order to fight his way out.

But that chain. He flexed his hands again softly, careful for the chink of metal not to draw the guard's attention. By now he was well aware that the guards all had strict orders to keep him alive, no matter what. The order had been dangled in front of his face repeatedly, his captors forever taunting him with the prospect of a release that he would never actually receive. Like everything else in this place, the mind games Price was forced to undertake were perfectly orchestrated, each one designed to tear down mental walls that had taken years of training and hard service to build.

But maybe, just maybe he could throw a spanner into the works. Choose the right moment, the opportune time to strike. Maybe take a couple down with him, although that wasn't really his aim. All he had to do was push them  _hard enough_ , provoke them just so that they'd lose control for a split second and forget their orders…

He looked up, his eyes skimming across the elevated ceiling of the room. Yes. Maybe today  _was_  that day.

_**-X-X-X-X-X-X-** _

" _Hornet Two-Two touching down on target. Team Two is deployed."_

The second McCoy's boots hit the tarmac of the gulag's courtyard her body was almost completely reliant on muscle memory.

A rattle of gunfire seemed to shoot straight past her helmet and Bones ducked her head, her feet pushing off from ground with force as she launched herself towards the nearest cover, in this case the hood of a burnt out truck. Crouched behind the scorched metal she leant out of cover just another to lay down a burst of covering fire, her efforts at least keeping the two men directly occupying her field of vision pinned down. Beside her she became aware of Toad doing the same, his body curled up behind the other end of the truck. They both fire in unison until a rally of bullets sprayed across the forward facing expanse of the vehicle, shaking its metal shell and forcing them back into cover.

"Hotel Six, they've got us pinned! Where the hell's that air support?!" She yelled into her comms, her head ducking down further when another bout of gunfire hit the side of the truck.

" _Keep it steady, Bones_ _,_ _"_  MacTavish replied, his voice loud yet calm over the radio. " _Hornet Two-One, lasing target on the second floor!"_

" _Two-One copies, got a tally on six tangos, inbound hot."_

" _Copy that Two-One."_

Seconds later, a loud beating sound filled the air and signalled the arrival of their air support. The machine guns on the front of the helicopter burst into action, the thunderous rattle of fire forcing McCoy to wince, her body still firmly plastered to the burnt out truck. Behind her, the screams and cries of the men were barely audible over the sound of the guns, hot bullet casings raining down and chiming off the tarmac. Steadily, the cries grew quieter and Lara peered out of cover, her rifle ready to lay down more fire in case there were any stragglers that their air support had missed.

"Teams one and two, move up!" MacTavish called out through their comms, Lara just catching sight of him and Ghost as they ran to take cover behind a low wall further ahead. In front of them soldiers were already beginning to pour out of the buildings, panicked voices yelling out in barrages of Russian. The SEAL teams were advancing too, splitting up into groups to cover their flanks, ready to proceed with their half of the bargain and breach and clear the compound's buildings. In the briefing, McCoy had realised that it was a tall order but only now, surrounded by what felt like a labyrinth of buildings could she truly appreciate the scale of the distraction these men had been asked to stage.

There was no more time for reflection as McCoy ran forwards herself, taking advantage of the fire that MacTavish and the others were laying down in front of her. She kept her body low, her legs moving so quickly that she felt as though she might stumble at any second. Cold air forced its way down her throat and into her lungs, her teeth aching as she sucked in each fresh breath. There was no time to be fearful, her mind focused on little more than the next patch of cover and the next targets to line themselves up in her sights.

The push towards the Gulag's control room proved to be the most intense fighting the 141 had faced in months. The SEALs hung back as much as they could, their much larger force proving to keep many of the soldiers occupied and yet as the 141's assault moved up fresh soldiers would leak out from the buildings, bullets fired in haste effective in forcing them all back into cover. It didn't take long for them to stop and methodically take down each target one by one, and yet with every delay, McCoy felt as though they were wasting time that they simply didn't have. After all, the assault couldn't last forever.

An M203 grenade exploded up ahead, throwing three rag doll bodies that had been running for cover at the wrong time with the blast. Rifle's drawn, the 141 men approached slowly with Worm and his team bringing up the rear and watching their backs. As they got closer, it was blatantly obvious that two of the men were dead, their bodies thrown into distorted shapes, their skin charred and burnt. The last man was helpless on the ground, coughing and spluttering in an attempt to drag his torn body to safety. In a movement free from hesitation, MacTavish lifted his rifle and fired a single bullet into the neck of the fallen soldier, his body instantly stopping in its tracks.

"This is it; the entrance is just up ahead," The Captain commented quickly, cocking his head towards the stairs that lead down into the main body of the Gulag. "We go in, get 627 and then get the hell out of there. No unnecessary risks, no heroics."

" _Sir._ "

"Okay," He nodded, checking his rifle quickly. "Let's go. Watch your corners and let's keep this clean."

The majority of Worm's team stayed behind under the command of Toad and Archer, their main objective to clear the few remaining buildings and keep the entrance clear so that 627 could be extracted the same way they'd breached the gulag if necessary. The rest of the team, including Worm himself made their way into the gulag, the sudden dimness of their surroundings instantly setting them all on edge. McCoy moved purposefully alongside Roach, her finger hovering over the trigger of her rifle. Her heart was pounding at the back of her throat, her eyes squinting at every flicker of movement in the shadows.

They entered a long corridor, a stream of bullets firing wildly in their general direction. Behind the metal grates surrounding the doors were a cluster of guards, the lights from their muzzle fire immediately giving away their position. In an instant the 141 reacted, flattening themselves against the walls and to the floor in an attempt to make themselves smaller targets. Ghost advanced the furthest and managed to lay down some fire, one of the men crying out as a bullet caught him squarely in the chest. The brief respite allowed the rest of the team to move up and join him, their resulting bursts of fire taking down the remaining guards that stood between them and the control room.

They moved precisely, filing into the control room one by one, each man constantly watching any possible cover spots. Only when they were convinced that the room was clear did Riley move up, grabbing an upturned metal chair and dragging it over to one of the computers. He tapped experimentally at the keys with gloved hands.

"I should be able to tap into their systems from 'ere. It looks as if everything's still online."

"How long do you need?" MacTavish replied briskly.

"As long as you can give me. Right now 627's a needle in a gigantic fucking haystack."

"Can you do it?"

"Yes, it's just gonna take some time. I'll need someone up here watching my arse too."

"You've got it, mate." The Captain looked up, his eyes meeting with McCoy's deliberately. "Bones, stay here and cover Ghost. If things get too hot you both exfil out with the SEALs, got it?"

" _Sir._ " Her whole body might have been screaming against the order keeping her away from the fight but McCoy knew better than to start questioning him.

"Good. Roach, Worm, we're on cell duty. We'll push on, try and buy Ghost the time he needs."

McCoy met the captain's gaze head on, if only for a split second. Deep down, she wanted to convey so much with her eyes, to give him that one last  _you come back to me alive_  look. But there was a time and a place for that, and their time to say their goodbyes and wish each other luck had already been and gone back at Site Hotel Bravo. Now, they were no longer Lara and John but rather Bones and Soap, subordinate and commanding officer. When they were on operations it was always going to have to be that way and so when his eyes locked onto hers, McCoy could only respond with a fleeting, determined nod.

They headed off down a set of narrow, steel stairs in single file, quickly disappearing out of clear view as they began to make their rounds of the cells. Lara looked away and focused her gaze back down the deserted corridor that they had cleared only moments before, her rifle held firmly in both hands. The control room smelled faintly of phosphorous and iron. The bodies of the guards were strewn across the floor in a variety of contorted positions, their limp limbs bent at unnatural angles. One of the men was surrounded by a particularly large pool of blood where one of their rounds had caught him squarely in the throat. McCoy flinched and looked away, images of Royce and Brazil suddenly flooding her mind's eye.

Gunfire. She jumped as soon as she heard it, although the sound was muffled and distant, obviously from below them in the cell block. There was a distinct cry out in Russian, followed by a scream and what sounded like MacTavish rattling off a series of orders. Lara tried to blot out the noise. She needed to focus on her own orders and not on her friends. In theory, it was a sound idea, but in practice all she wanted to do was run down after them and be back in the thick of the action.

"All right, I'm patched in. I'm tracking your progress on the security cameras…" The monitor in front of Riley lit up and over his shoulder Lara could see the outlines of what she assumed was MacTavish and the others. The image was grainy and green but at least it was better than nothing.

" _Copy that. Do you have the location of prisoner 627?"_

"Negative." Riley's fingers moved across the computer keys again. In the cell block below them a beam of light shot out and shone down onto the closest cluster of cells. "But I've got a searchlight tracking hostiles on your floor. That should make your job easier at least."

" _Roger that!"_ A rattle of fire punctuated the radio chatter. _"Ghost, we're approaching a security door. Can you get it open on your end?"_

"Working on it…" Riley's gaze never once left the monitor. The cool tone of his voice suggested a man in complete control, but the way he quickly threw off his sunglasses and edged that little bit closer to the screen spoke volumes to Lara. "Just give me one more second…  _There_!"

" _You opened the wrong door! We're sitting here with our arses out, mate!"_

"Roger, standby…" The urgency in MacTavish's voice had been nothing if not clear and yet Riley remained calm, shifting his in his seat ever so slightly. The screen in front of him flickered with information that would have made McCoy's head spin and yet he never once seemed to lose his focus. "Got it!"

" _Copy that. Let's move."_ The sounds of gunfire seemed to fall away as the team progressed further, the voices turning from angry yells to calm orders. They were methodically working their way through the cells now, each one as empty as the last judging by the radio chatter being continually fed into both McCoy and Riley's ears.  _"Talk to me Ghost, these cells are deserted!"_

"System's putting up a fight, sir." Riley shook his head in irritation, his left fist clenched as he scrolled through a meaningless wall of text. He paused all of a sudden, his posture straightening as his fist bounced victoriously off of the desk. "Fucking got it. He was transferred a few days ago. He's in solitary confinement, west wing." A tap of his fingers brought up a map of the gulag on the screen. "That armoury up ahead. You can cut through there; it's the fastest way down." He brought up the camera screen again to monitor their position. "Bad news though, mate. There's got to be three, no four hostile squads converging on your position."

" _I can hear them. The door's locked… we're too exposed out here!"_

"Not a problem." Ghost replied coolly, his fingers mirroring their movements of just moments before.

" _Ghost, the door's still down. All I'm seeing is red lights down here!"_

"Bloody hell! They're locked it from the hardline. I'll have to run a bypass… Hang on…"

Any previous overconfidence was suddenly lost in seconds as Riley fought with the computer. He tore off his mask as though it would make all the difference in the world, irritation clearly written across his features. McCoy grasped her rifle tightly in her hands, her body suddenly swaying slightly in indecision, caught between wanting to go and give them back up and staying at her post.

" _Ghost!"_  MacTavish's voice was almost desperate.  _"Open the door! NOW!"_

The gunfire grew louder and McCoy faltered, her feet carrying her to the exit from the control room. She looked down, but all she could see were the flashes bouncing off the gulag walls as both sides continued to fire.

"Don't even fucking  _think_ about it…" Riley warned, although his eyes never once moved away from the computer monitor.

"They need backup!"

"And I don't?!" There it was. With what had only been a fleeting, angered glare in her direction Riley managed to send McCoy's gut lurching. She took a step away from the edge and back into the control room. Ghost was right, no matter how fraught the fight below her became, Riley needed someone,  _needed her_  to stand by him and watch his back. The realisation made her sick. How could she so casually forget that?

" _Ghost?!"_

"I'm routing through the auxiliary circuit… 20 seconds!"

" _Copy that!"_

Her mind back on task, McCoy returned to Riley's side, her eyes ever watchful of the Gulag's entrance. The speed at which Riley worked was astonishing. McCoy had always been aware of how good a soldier he was from their operations, but she'd never seen him work like this, never known that he was so capable when it came to the more technical obstacles of their work. The barrage of Russian lettering that continued to assault him from the monitor did little to faze him and McCoy was suddenly hit by a wave of guilt at the realisation that she had managed to underestimate him so completely. After all, everything Riley did and said spoke volumes about his intelligence, even if in person he would always try to hide it.

"You're clear, Hotel Six." Riley relaxed in his seat, if only a little. He brought the security camera feeds back up onto the screen. "I'm tracking ten hostiles in front of your position. You've got 'em spooked, they're pulling back."

" _Roger that."_

From then on, the control room descended into silence. They tracked MacTavish and his team as they picked their way through the cell blocks, pushing the remaining guards back methodically. Through the grainy security footage they saw the team reach the end of their current floor, Roach and Worm stopping to dead check and search the fallen guards. Just in shot, Lara could see MacTavish, busily clipping something to his belt.

" _Ghost, be advised, we're rappelling down to the ground floor."_

"Understood. I'll try to tap into the security feeds, see what you're dealing with." MacTavish was lost from the screen in an instant as Ghost opened another window, his left hand moving upwards and running through his hair, frustrated when the screen remained blank. "It's a no go, mate. The camera feed in solitary confinement is dead. The power must be down in that section."

" _Shit_ _,_ _"_ Soap's angered hiss across their comms said it all.  _"Ok, we're going in blind. Keep your eyes on those blueprints. If things go tits up down there I don't want to get boxed in."_

"Yes, sir. I'll keep going through the system, see if I can dig up anything else on 627."

" _Copy that. Let me know if you find anything."_

The comms fell ominously silent. MacTavish's team were too far away for Lara to hear their movements below them and so the control room became quiet and tense. Outside, she could hear the tell-tale bangs and explosions of their air support, the hiss of returning RPG fire becoming less and less as the SEALs slowly progressed through the rest of the gulag. A particularly loud explosion sounded as though it had gone off right next to them, the walls juddering and spewing out small clouds of dust.

" _Shit_ ," Lara hissed, wincing slightly. "I thought the Navy was supposed to hold off until after the exfil?"

"It's like Shepherd said, the Yanks are getting trigger happy." Riley turned to her, his eyes deliberately harsh. "Can't blame them, can you? Five minutes ago you were ready to charge in there all guns blazing yourself."

"I thought-" McCoy tailed off, quickly recognising that she had no real rebuttal. She shook her head. "I guess I  _didn't_  think…"

"Well I could do without the white knight bollocks, alright?" He paused, his gaze firmly back on the screen ahead. "We've got enough shit to deal with without you acting like a bloody liability."

"What do you want from me, Ghost?"

"I want you to fucking wake up." He paused, still focusing on the screen rather than her. "You're a better soldier than that shit and you know it."

"Oh yeah?" Lara rolled her eyes. "Try telling that to Shadow Company then."

"Shadow Company know fuck all, they always have done," The words left his mouth rehearsed, almost as though they were a knee jerk response. Silence hung between them again until Riley hesitated, a soft sigh that was halfway to being more of a hiss escaping his lips. He turned to her slowly. "… What have you heard?"

What hadn't she heard? Lara was no stranger to sexist remarks and through her career she was pretty sure that she'd heard them all. Sure, the military had begrudgingly progressed in terms of equality, but like most things that didn't mean that sexism was magically a thing of the past. Now any unsavoury remarks were hushed whispers rather than outright statements, something that McCoy had always found far more hurtful. After all, you could never challenge a whisper head on.

With every advance in her career, Lara had hit new opposition. In the Paras there had been many snide comments and amused jibes, ones that she had fought to ignore whilst she trained and trained to try and gain some recognition. In the 141, Ghost himself had been her main obstacle, along with Meat and some of the other men who didn't think her worthy of holding such a badge of honour. At least with the men of the 141, she'd known where she stood. There'd been no false attempts at friendship because in the task force no one could afford them. And over time, she'd established herself. Doubting comments turned into praising ones and even though she didn't forget that there were still men who would never truly accept her, McCoy felt like an equal, that the dogtags that hung around her neck truly  _belonged_  there. Maybe that was why the dismissal she'd received from the majority of Shadow Company had hit her so hard. After all, she'd gone months working as part of a close knit, trusting team only to be thrown back into a world where many still felt as though she had something to prove.

"Plenty…" She couldn't quite look at him and so Lara instead faced forwards, her eyes firmly fixed on the control room's entrance. "General consensus seems to be that I'm a liability. I heard one bloke say that he thought I was only here to satisfy someone's political agenda." A dark laugh tumbled from her lips. "And oh yeah… I'm the token barracks whore. That seems to be a favourite. I suppose I should be flattered. Some of them even seemed a little  _jealous_."

"You've almost got to feel sorry for them. Out here they've got fuck all chance of getting laid. You'd think some of 'em would play nicer with you."

" _Funny_." Lara rolled her eyes.

"It's all a load of bull though." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Riley watching her. "They say this shit because they can. Because they don't know any better. Hell, I should know, I used to say the same myself."

"Don't remind me."

"But I meant what I said, Bones. You've become a damn good soldier. There's not a bloke on this task force who wouldn't trust you with his life." He turned back to the monitor. "Hell, half of us have already one way or another."

"You were never given all that much choice," Lara shrugged, her combat armour rubbing awkwardly against her body from the action.

"You know that's not how it works. Sure, we were forced to accept you as our medic but even Shepherd doesn't have the power to  _make_  us trust just anyone. You earned your place with us, Bones. Don't let any of those SC shits tell you different."

"I won't."

"Good. And for the record, if anyone has the bollocks to say that shit in earshot of me or one of the lads…  _well_ , I'm pretty sure they'd have to spend the next few days picking their teeth up off of the floor. Most of us are just waiting for the chance to give those boys a bollocking anyway."

"Cheers…" The word left her lips a little hesitant, but in truth the entire exchange had only served to catch McCoy off guard. Riley seemed to have a gift with that.

" _Please_ , you don't need to thank me," he shook his head, a rough smirk flashing across his overconfident features. "You're in the 141 now, love. Fucking man up, will you?"

_**-X-X-X-X-X-X-** _

"This one's empty too."

Surrounded by darkness and a distinct smell of must and mould, John MacTavish was beginning to feel all too uneasy within the gulag.

The cell block was deserted, with the majority of the cell doors thrown open as though they had been empty for years. Aside from the scattering of guards they'd encountered after first rappelling down onto this level, the gulag appeared stripped bare of anything living, the heavy stone walls surrounding them thick and imposing, threatening to suck the life out of them all too.

"Move up!" MacTavish called out, signalling with his right hand. He kept low, crouched as they drew closer to the end of the cell block. He could feel Roach behind him, with Worm and the other SEALs in turn watching their backs.

He wasn't sure if it was the loud bang or the shockwave that hit him first, but in an instant MacTavish felt his legs collapse beneath him, the room feeling as though it had all but jerked to one side. Mortar fell from the ceiling and bounced off his forehead in heavy raindrops and a bright flash of light dazzled his night vision and sent him blinded. Disorientated, his hands fumbled at the goggles on his face, clumsy fingers pushing them upwards away from his eyes so that he could see again. To his right, he heard Roach splutter. A quick look over his shoulder told him that the rest of his team were equally winded but otherwise unharmed.

"Shepherd, what the hell was that?" Dust was thick in his throat, his voice husky and dry as he yelled down his comms. "Get the navy to cease fire!"

" _The Navy isn't in a talking mood right now. Standby_ _,_ _"_ The General's tone was crisp and unfazed across the radio.

"Torn apart by friendly fire before we even reach 627, huh?  _Great…_ "

"Easy, Roach," Soap warned out of necessity, even if in reality he shared the sergeant's sentiments completely. He dragged himself to his feet, his hands automatically checking over his dropped rifle.

" _Hotel Six - they've agreed to stop firing for now. Keep going, I'll keep you posted. Out."_ MacTavish was pretty sure that the General's cool demeanour was more for show than anything else, but that didn't make it any less infuriating. Trying his hardest to shrug off the feeling, he waved the other men forwards.

"You heard our orders. We keep pushing."

"And what happens when they start shelling us again?!"

"Let's try not to be around when that happens. Let's pick up the pace, lads. Ghost… do you copy?"

" _Loud and clear, sir."_

"Navy's getting anxious, we need a shortcut to 627's position. Any ideas?"

" _The old shower room's about thirty feet ahead on your left, it's directly above an old tunnel system that should lead you to solitary. You'll have to breach the wall to get in."_

"Got it. Keep your eyes on those blueprints, mate. It's a bloody maze down here."

" _Roger that."_

This time they were braced for the explosion. Roach planted the charge and counted down the timer. MacTavish's heart caught in his mouth as the wall beside him disintegrated into chunks of rock and dust, grey smoke filling the air around them. From then on there was only screaming from both sides, as the ambushed men in the shower room struggled to recover ground, whilst the 141 advanced forwards to secure it.

"UP HIGH!"

A flurry of fire sent up clouds of plaster by his feet and MacTavish dove into cover behind the nearby shower wall, his back pressed hard against the tiles. There were men on either walkway above them, the red lasers from their sights dancing across the walls and floor. Behind him he could hear the others following suit, each man throwing themselves into cover as fire rained down upon their heads. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Soap quickly reloaded his rifle, the action completely automatic as his ears focused on what was going on around him. All he needed was a break in fire so that he could lean out of cover, his brain hoping to whatever God might be listening that his back was sufficiently covered by the high wall behind him. If not, well, he'd be one hell of a sitting duck.

They worked as a cohesive unit, alternating between covering and effective fire. Clearing the walkways above them proved to be the easy part as they ventured further into the shower system they came face to face with men with riot shields, their advancement steady and decisive. It nearly cost them every hand grenade in their possession to fight their way past the barricade and to the other end of shower block, picking their way through debris and bodies along the way.

" _You're above that tunnel system, Hotel Six."_  Ghost's voice rang out across the radio before Soap even had the chance to ask for further instructions.

"Copy that." Nodding to Roach, Soap and the others withdrew to a safe distance as the sergeant advanced, laying a charge on the floor in front of them. He set the timer and retreated back to their side, the floor crumbling and giving way in front of them in a burst of rock and debris.

Ghost was right. A long tunnel system stretched out beneath the shower block, the corridor half flooded and leaking. Icy spikes of pain jolted through John's entire body as he dropped down into the freezing water. Shudders ran up and down the length of his spine and MacTavish fought to push them away, inwardly wishing that he still had his dry suit. Instead he used the cold to force himself onwards harder, his movements through the water as quick as he could afford to make them.

"Ghost, we're in the old tunnel system heading south-southwest!" He turned a corner, his boots slipping on the wet floor from momentum.

" _Keep going, you're almost there."_ There was a bar blocking them up ahead where the tunnel sloped away and fed into another larger one. Wet gloves squeaking against the metal, Soap hauled himself up, his boots clinking off the railings as he effortlessly vaulted over them.

"Keep talking to me, Ghost, I don't want to be down here when those ships start firing again."

" _You should have entered a new tunnel system… It's a dead end, but the south west wall at the end of the system backs straight onto solitary…"_ Landing with a splash, Soap fought to stand, his entire body by now dripping wet. A small set of steps in front of him led him up and out of the iced waterway.  _"I'm registering two heat signatures. One of them must be 627."_

"I hear you, mate. Roach, get another charge on that wall. The rest of you, stack up."

He may have been a demolitions expert back in the SAS, but that didn't mean that being near charges and explosions didn't still give Soap the same jolt of adrenaline as they had when he'd first started to learn. The instant the breaching charge detonated and the wall in front of them erupted into fragments, Soap's mind was that little bit more focused, his heart thundering against the walls of his rib cage. He watched as Roach advanced, saw one man, no,  _two_ men locked in a fight for control advance towards him. He drew his pistol and felt the familiar weight in his palm. Roach fell backwards, defenceless whilst 627 held a rifle in front of his face. Without a second thought Soap moved up, painfully aware that if he were just a second too late, he'd lose his friend forever.

"Drop it!" The smoke and dust was beginning to clear. Soap's fingers curled around his pistol, the barrel firmly pointed at the prisoner's temple. He edged that little bit nearer, close enough to see the rise and fall of the man's shoulders as 627 fought to catch his breath. "I said drop it!"

"…  _Soap?_ " Familiar grey eyes framed by paper bag creases were suddenly looking back at him. The face they belonged to was aged and gaunt but still undeniably  _his_. Soap's grip on the M1911 in his hand tightened but the muscles of his arm faltered and he lowered his weapon, feeling so lost and yet relieved all at once. Beneath his body armour, his stomach flipped.

" _Price?!"_

_**-X-X-X-X-X-X-** _

This time the walls shook hard enough to make McCoy stagger.

"Shit!" The monitor in front of Ghost flickered and he smacked at it with his palm. The screen remained completely unresponsive. "Hotel six?! Do you read me, over?"

" _All units - be advised, they've started the bombardment early! Get the hell out of there now!"_  Shepherd's voice rather than MacTavish's rang out across their comms, the urgency in his voice throwing Lara more than explosion that shortly followed. Grabbing his rifle, Riley clambered to his feet, knocking his chair over backwards in the process.

"Hotel Six?! Do you have 627, over?"

"…  _We do."_  Lara's heart thudded with relief when John's voice finally crackled over the radio. It was faint and distant but at least he was alive.  _"But our exfil was cut off… - place is coming down around us."_

"The systems down up 'ere, there's no way I can get back on the blueprints."

" _You know your orders. Just get Bones and get the hell out of there!"_  There was a hiss across the radio, another explosion that seemed to distort the Captain's voice further.  _"Shit! Roach is down! Roach?!"_  The radio crackled again and then went silent.

"We can't just  _leave_  them…" Mortar and cement were already pattering down onto both of their heads and yet they both hesitated, Riley looking as torn as she felt. For once, the cool, calm exterior of his logic had dissipated, leaving behind a man battling duty and self-preservation in equal measure. He shook his head quickly as if to convince himself, his left hand making a quick grab for her forearm.

"We can't help them either. They're ripping the gulag to shreds, we'd never even make it down there!"

"… I know." In that one instance, McCoy and Riley understood each other perfectly. To anyone else their reluctance to leave would have been madness as the walls around them continued to crumble and vibrate. But right then, leaving their friends behind felt wrong, selfish, and against everything that they all stood for. In the 141, courage and bravery were one thing, but the truly strong soldiers were those who were able to accept the truly alien concept of helplessness.

As Riley and McCoy ran for their lives through what remained of the gulag, that pill felt like one of the bitterest they had ever had to swallow.

On board their exfil helicopter, the gulag falling away beneath her as they ascended, Bones should have felt calm, safely tucked away from the flames that had begun to lick at the ancient stone of the building. Her lungs burned for air, her skin was slick with sweat and yet her thoughts couldn't have been further from the present. Instead they were focused on her possessions back at base, on the letter that Roach had forced into her hand before they had left Site Hotel Bravo. A letter to his family saying the goodbyes that he would never be able to say in person. A letter that Lara had prayed she'd never have to send. And yet now, with MacTavish's last words on the radio still ringing in her ears, Lara was suddenly faced with the realisation that she might have to.

Beside her, Riley was panting just as hard, his face smudged with brown and black streaks of dust and ash. Their eyes met for a split second and Lara could almost feel him reading her, his features set in that familiar, stern expression that she used to hate. Instead of staying silent like her, he pressed his comms unit further into his ear with his right hand, leaning forwards further into the helicopter in an attempt to shield himself from the rhythmic beating of the rotor blades.

"Gold Eagle, this is Ghost. Bones and I had to exfil out with team two. We're with Transformer two six, headed for rendezvous site alpha."

" _Understood. Any casualties?"_

"No, sir." He faltered with a split second hesitation. "But we lost radio contact with Hotel Six and the infiltration team. Do you know their status, over?"

" _They exfiled out with Transformer two seven. All four men along with the HVI."_ Lara's pulse thundered at her temples. She caught Riley's gaze and for one rare moment, every emotion she was feeling was mirrored back in his eyes. A small smile slipped unchecked across her features, a single solitary face caught in her mind's eye.  _Gary._

Behind closed eyes, Lara began mentally tearing up that goodbye letter.

_**-X-X-X-X-X-X-** _

By the time they landed on the aircraft carrier, a soft, afternoon glow of sunlight had begun to settle on the water. The sun itself hung low in the sky, its rays feeling anaemic and cold as they hit what little of McCoy's skin was exposed to the wintery air. A world of water surrounded them, the ocean spanning for miles in every direction that she looked into. The rhythmic lapping of waves against the metal of the hull only served to make their isolation seem that little bit more acute.

Up until now, the biggest ship Lara had set foot on was a cruise ship in the Mediterranean with her parents when she'd been about ten. Her brother had spent the first day whining about missing his friends and Lara herself had eaten far too much ice cream and ended up throwing up over the railings. Ever since, being at sea had been one of her least favourite places to be.

They crossed the landing strip quickly, guided by a serviceman who spoke to Riley more than he spoke to her. He led them below, where the corridors became more claustrophobic and yet at least the absence of the sea could allow Lara to try and forget that they were still on board a gigantic ship. They moved through a maze of cramped, grey washed corridors until they were finally led into what looked to be a holding room that had been seemingly gutted out for their use.

"Gary…" It was unprofessional and yet she didn't care. Roach was sitting amongst the others, a bottle of water clasped in his still gloved hands. He looked up as soon as she called his name, his lips parting in an amused, if slightly pained smile. McCoy strode across the room as quickly as she could without making a complete fool of herself, throwing her arms around her friend as soon as she was close enough. Usually hugging Gary felt wrong, but right then Lara didn't even want to think about letting go. "Don't you ever fucking think about doing that to me again."

" _Shit, Bones_ …" Roach spluttered, his hands tapping lightly at her back. "Not so loud, huh?"

"Are you hurt?" Lara pulled away from him, her eyes giving him a quick once over.

" _I'm ok…_ "

"Ok?" Worm spluttered at his side, his elbow giving the sergeant a light nudge. "He was on the wrong side of a ceiling collapse. We had to dig his ass out of the rubble."

"Have you been checked out?"

"A medic on the chopper." Gary rolled his eyes, although his mouth gave his amusement at her concern away when the corners quirked up into a quick smile. "I hit my head. Light concussion. My back isn't feeling so hot, but I'm pretty sure I'll live."

"Gary-"

" _Yes_ , you can give me a second check over later and  _no_ , you're not signing my name on anything that even looks like an injured roster." He gave her a soft nudge, his face cracking into a laugh. "Now quit crowding me, man. You're making me look bad."

"Roach is just scared that people are going to start thinking that there's two chicks on this task force," Toad teased, sidling up beside her. "Don't take it personally, Bones."

"I think I can just about handle it."

"Have you all finished your bitching?" Riley was suddenly stood behind Lara, his voice flat and focused. "Where's MacTavish and 627?"

"Shepherd pulled them into a debrief as soon as we landed. Turns out 627's not the guy we thought he'd be."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"He's British for a start. And he knows the Captain. I've never seen MacTavish so shaken up. Neither of them said much on the exfil out."

"He knows MacTavish? But that's…" Tailing off mid-sentence, Lara caught herself, her mind suddenly catching up. "… Do we know 627's name?"

"MacTavish called him 'Price'. That's all I heard."

 _Price._ The name sent McCoy's mind reeling back, to months ago when John had first told her his nickname in the SAS. The night where he'd spoken about a man more affectionately than he ever spoke about his own biological father, sadness brimming up in his eyes at the mere thought of him. He'd disappeared and John had been so sure that he was dead. She tried to withhold a shudder. All that time Soap had been convinced he'd lost him and in reality Price had been rotting away in some godforsaken gulag…

" _Shit._ " Riley seemed to recognise the name too. He shook his head, his right hand messing through his hair. "The old man just doesn't know when to  _quit_."

"You know him?" Gary had never looked so confused.

"He's SAS. Or used to be. Was MacTavish's mentor and captain back in the day. If Price is back, chances are a shitstorm's going to follow."

"Do you think he's compromised?" The thought of what that would do to MacTavish threatened to form a lump at the back of McCoy's throat.

"I doubt it. I don't know Price well, but I know he'd rather swallow a bullet. Crazy bastard is more than capable of doing it too." Riley shrugged his shoulders, a dark smile creeping across his face and setting McCoy on edge. "Put it this way… Blokes like Price make me look like a fucking  _weekend warrior._ "

 


	29. Me and the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

Somehow, she'd imagined that he'd be taller.

The great John Price, a living legend for the SAS. A man who had been on more black ops than she could ever even hope to accomplish, a man who commanded almost immediate respect from hard to please men like Ghost and Archer. A man who's sole influence had shaped MacTavish into the leader that he had become. And there he was, standing a good three inches shorter than McCoy herself. It should have made her feel more confident, but in reality Bones felt even more terrified.

MacTavish had sent for her to come to the medical bay as soon as his debrief with Shepherd had finished. After another mind-bending walk through the labyrinthine ship corridors, Lara found herself in a small medical bay, with Price sitting at the end of the room half visible behind a curtain, two nurses fussing over him. In the foreground was MacTavish, leaning against a wall with his arms folded. He was still covered in ash and dust, his eyes closed as though in silent prayer. They snapped open when McCoy entered the room and he was striding to her side in a matter of seconds.

" _Lara-_ " He wasn't Captain MacTavish anymore. He was John, his pale eyes as lost as she'd ever seen them, almost childlike in their vulnerability. They were pink and bloodshot, a sign of fatigue and stress.

"I heard…" There was little she could do to comfort him aside from reaching out with her right arm, her hand lightly squeezing his bicep. "It's really him?"

"As real as you and me. I thought I was seeing things but… he's right  _there_ , Lara."

"Do we even know how long he was in there?"

"No… But I keep thinking, what if it was all this time? I haven't seen him in months.  _What if_ …" He shook his head, his left hand running across his Mohawk quickly. "What if I could have bloody  _done_  something?"

"You did something. You looked for him, John. You  _tried_ … But if Makarov had his claws in him, you didn't have a hope in hell. We're lucky to even have him now."

"I know, I just…" He sighed, glancing over his shoulder to where Price seemed to be actively telling the nurses just where exactly to get off. They hovered unsure for a moment before packing up their things and leaving. Instead of commenting like she expected, Soap merely turned his attentions back to her. "Just look out for him, ok? I'd rather it was you then this lot." His request was little more than a weary breath.

"Done alright so far, haven't I?" She smiled, resisting the urge to touch him again. Instead she tried to watch Price in her peripheral vision as she spoke, ever aware that his head was turned in their direction. "What can you tell me about the debrief?"

"Not much. He was answering with the bare minimum, playing it all a bit stupid," he shrugged. "I don't know if it worked on Shepherd and Trojan, but he didn't fool me for a second. Either way, they sent him down here for a look over. Shepherd was very keen that you be the one in charge. I think he's trying to keep things within the team as much as possible."

"Understandable," Lara nodded softly, although the statement added another layer of pressure that she attempted to ignore. Pushing a weak smile across her face, she met Soap's gaze decisively. "Then let's meet the patient shall we?"

Even with Soap flanking her, Lara couldn't help but feel at least a little intimidated. She sucked in a deep breath, tried to remind herself that although daunting, this was the one side of her work where she should feel at her most comfortable. It was funny how easily she forgot that she was a doctor first and a soldier second thanks to the 141. Armed with this new found confidence she walked across to the other side of the room with MacTavish, her face the very image of relaxed. After all, Price might be a legend to many, but ultimately he was just a man to her.

And a rather  _short_  man at that.

"Price?" Soap's voice came out far less at ease than Lara had anticipated. "We need to get your checked out, mate."

"I'll live."

"And I don't doubt that for a second," The captain laughed a little too quickly. "But the sooner we have a bit of paper telling us all that, the better." He nodded to Lara at his side, Price's grey eyes suddenly homing in on her instead. "This is Bones. She'll be looking out for you."

"American?" Price quirked an eyebrow, his eyes giving her a quick once over, momentarily resting on the stethoscope that hung loosely around her neck. The measured, educated tone of his voice immediately made her feel under scrutiny.

"No, sir.  _British_."

"McCoy is with the 141," Soap interjected. "She's our team medic."

"The nurses have already descended on me like bloody flies."

"With all due respect, I'm a doctor." Smiling quickly, McCoy reached for the chart attached to Price's bed, her eyes flicking across the various results. What was there appeared to at least be in order, his heart rate, blood pressure and oxygen saturation all falling into the correct ranges. However, you didn't need a medical qualification to see that this was a man who wasn't at full strength. He was thin, that much was apparent even with clothes covering the majority of his body, his shoulders more angular and less rounded than they should have been, his face gaunt and cheekbones just that little bit too visible for her liking. To top it all off, there was a pale and in places almost sallow quality to his skin. Although not out of place given his circumstances, there was no doubting the fact that Price's incarceration had taken a heavy physical toll on his body.

"What's the verdict?" Soap was by her side, standing that little bit closer than she was used to. Lara was unable to tell whether it was because he wanted to read the chart too or was just looking for a little reassurance. She assumed it was the former. The sound of his voice was oddly hopeful. MacTavish was no fool, he had eyes and there was no way in hell he could be seeing something other than what she was seeing in Price's condition. In reality, it was what she couldn't see that bothered Lara all the more. Given the nature of his imprisonment and even more so his silence on what had happened during that time, Price's body could have been playing host to a whole collection of other daemons. Tuberculosis, hepatitis, HIV… all were viral or bacterial infections that had the capacity to flourish within a Gulag such as the one they'd raided, each coming with its own long term complications.

But the blue eyes looking intently into hers didn't quite seem ready to hear all that. They were looking for a shred of hope, of optimism, of reassurance. She didn't have the heart to lie to him but at the same time she knew that she couldn't be one hundred percent honest either. Not when this was Price, a man who MacTavish seemed to rely on, even in his absence.

"I'd like to do some blood work, an X ray, and ultrasound where possible. A urine sample would help me put some crosses in a lot of boxes too. I'm going to have to do a physical exam too just to be thorough," She put on her most reassuring of voices, focusing her attention of Price rather than Soap this time. "If that's all alright with you, sir?"

"The nurses already tried that tack. I'd rather not be a pin cushion if it's all the same to you."

"Price…" MacTavish warned, his voice the epitome of waning patience.

"Soap?" Lara had never seen anyone put the Captain in his place quite like that. With a single stern word and a quirk of his eyebrow, MacTavish seemed to stop in his tracks, his mouth hanging open as though he felt he should continue. With Price now looking at the other man, Lara took advantage of the brief respite and allowed herself a split second to evaluate the man in front of her. He was harsher than she'd expected, his features constantly set in a stiff, verging on severe expression. His eyes in particular carried a strong 'I know better than you do' feel that wasn't worlds away from the same looks her dad had given her years ago.

By the way Soap was just letting the challenge slide; McCoy suspected that he was feeling the same kind of scrutiny.

"I guarantee that you won't be a pin cushion so long as you hold still…" Bones had been making jokes with patients throughout her career and she had no intention of stopping now, a soft smile pushing across her lips. She tried to ignore a look of what could quite easily have been disdain from Price and reached into a nearby cupboard for the necessary supplies. Either way, neither man gave her much to go on and the silence hung between them, practically tangible.

As soon as Price saw the needle, his jaw clenched. His entire body language spoke of a man who was desperately trying to maintain his physical composure. To a casual onlooker, the suddenly straight back and pursed lips would have appeared strong and determined. But to Lara, they spoke of nothing but a false front of masculine bravado.

"I'll be as quick as I can be," she spoke out on instinct, pulling on a pair of gloves. She brought the tourniquet up towards his arm and his bicep immediately flinched.

"I'm fine," his voice was beginning to sound like a mantra now. "I don't need-"

"What you need is to be able to leave this room, mate." Soap, who finally seemed to have found his testicles spoke out. Suddenly the old, authoritative Captain that Lara knew and loved appeared to be back in the room as MacTavish straightened up, his hands gathered behind his back. "We both know that's not going to happen until you've got the all clear."

There was suddenly something there in Price's eyes. McCoy knew she should look away but at the same time she felt unable, momentarily transfixed by the sudden display of unsaid emotion in the older man's face. Betrayal? Disappointment? Irritation? She couldn't be sure, but it was immediately clear that Soap read the signal perfectly as he cleared his throat and quickly looked away. Whatever that look had meant, it had certainly succeeded in making him feel uncomfortable.

"I don't need a bloody audience," Price finally spoke out, his voice measured and terse. He tilted his head towards the door. "No need for you to hang around, Soap."

"Of course." A quick nod and his blue eyes were settled back onto hers, a silent question hanging there between them. This was one signal that Lara was well versed in being able to understand. He wanted to know that she didn't need him either.

"Tell Shepherd he'll have my initial report by this evening. He'll have to wait a little longer for some of the tests to come back from the biomeds." She pushed what she hoped was her most professional smile across her features and nodded her head softly. " _Sir._ "

With Soap gone, Lara felt oddly more relaxed.

She saw no point in drawing out what was already going to be an unpleasant experience. With Price's mouth set in what could only be described as grim resignation she fitted the tourniquet tightly into place and instructed him to make a fist. She meticulously disinfected the area and gave it a few moments to dry, in the meantime arranging the four vacuum tubes that she'd need on the sterile table to her left. The lids of each were brightly coloured, each new colour indicating a different additive within the tube. With Price's arm dry and his head firmly set in the opposite direction, she finally slid the needle and holder into his vein, attaching the first vacuum tube to the other the end of the holder. Crimson steadily began to flood the chamber.

"You can relax your arm now." She nodded quickly, her gloved hands beginning to loosen the tourniquet around his right arm. With the first tube filled, she held the holder steady with her left hand, her right hand swapping the filled tube for the next. Despite her efforts, the holder still managed to move ever so slightly, Price letting out a loud hiss of distaste.

"And how many times have you bloody well done this?"

"Too many." The second tube was filling nicely. "I'm a fully qualified doctor, don't worry."

"Doesn't feel like it."

"I can provide references if you like. Tutors, my supervisors in the RAMC… you name it." She gave him a quick smile, busying herself with changing over the vacuum tube once again. She had no intention of rising to his provocation.

"How long then?" The question came from him between gritted teeth, his head still firmly facing the other direction.

"Sorry?"

"How long have you been with the 141?"

"About 6 months, give or take." She was on the final tube now, her hands still keeping the holder in place.

"That long, eh?" He scoffed, seemingly unaware of whether his comment was rude or not. "You're not Regiment though." It wasn't a question.

"No." Why did she feel as though he could already read her like a book? "Paras."

"Really?" At least that response earned her a fleeting reaction, Price's eyebrows raising ever so slightly. Whether it was purely surprise or a small amount of admiration however, Lara wasn't sure. "Sandhurst?"

"Yes, sir. Commissioned in 2012."

" _Bloody hell_ …" With the final tube filled, she went about removing the needle from his arm, covering it with cotton pad. Indicating for him to replace her fingers with his, she set about bagging and labelling the samples. With that attended to she nudged his hand out of the way, taping a small patch of gauze over where the needle had pierced his skin. Price flexed his arm experimentally, expertly masking any discomfort that he might have felt. He suddenly met her gaze, his face suddenly looking that little bit too pleased with himself. Lara had wondered why until he opened his mouth and spoke again. "So… still a spring chicken then, eh?"

Every inch of her body bristled from the comment. Her shoulders tensed, but she was determined not to let any of the tension reach her face, a likely over played smile still playing out across her lips. She'd been right; Price could read her like a book, his ability to prod at her insecurities impressive considering how long he'd known her. That being said, Lara had absolutely no intention of letting him know how much he'd started to rile her. Thanks to her tumultuous relationship Riley, McCoy had gained a damn sight more self-restraint than she'd first had upon joining the 141.

A year ago, she wasn't so sure that she'd have been able to ignore that kind of comment.

"I'm going to need to do a neuro check." She gave him a gentle smile, moving so that she was in front of him. "You're going to be seeing stars for a while after, but I promise you the worst is over."

"I'm not a child." Price simply replied with a rough shrug.

 _Then stop bloody well acting like one._ Lara managed to bite her tongue despite her growing desire to give Price a real piece of her mind. She decided not to reply at all, instead shining the light into each of Price's eyes in turn. His pupils responded well and next she tested his motor skills, instructing him to follow her pen as she moved it across his field of vision. In that at least, Price seemed perfectly fine.

"Do you have any pain in your ears or throat?"

"Nothing a good glass of whisky won't cure." It seemed Price and MacTavish were more alike than she'd first appreciated. Not trusting him for a moment, Lara examined his ears and throat in turn, before palpating the lymph nodes in his neck. Fortunately there was no sign of any real infection. She withdrew and added the findings to her clipboard, conscious of Price watching her throughout. "Is all this really necessary?"

"It's in your best interests."

"That wasn't what I asked."

"Then yes, it's all completely necessary." She put down the clipboard and looked at him decisively. "I'm going to need you to take off your shirt. I can ask for the Captain to come back into the room if you feel you need male observer."

"Now that really _isn't_  necessary."

"I'd beg to differ."

"Would you now?"

"Yes," her stubborn answer put an end to the quick fire exchange, Lara raising an eyebrow herself. She maintained a determined stance, her hands resting on her hips whilst she continued to stare Price down. A long time ago, before she'd even joined the army, Lara had learnt that a doctor had to pick and choose their battles carefully. Patients could be stubborn, proud people that didn't always have their best interests in mind for whatever reason and so sometimes tactical surrenders or a change of tact could work wonders. And yet despite that there were some battles that simply  _weren_ _'_ _t_ up for discussion, times when she had to exert every bit of authority she had for the correct outcome, no matter how unpopular it might make her in the short term. Now was one of those times. She might have 'a spring chicken' as he put it, a soldier with a fraction of the service record that he had, but even so it was time to hold her ground. Price couldn't leave the medical bay until she was satisfied, she knew that and so did he. It was the last bit of power that she had and now, with her patience being more than tested, McCoy was willing to use it.

After all, out there Price outranked her easily. But here, he was just another patient. It was high time he remembered that.

"My orders are to conduct a full medical examination," her voice was plain and matter of fact. "I've been at this long enough to know how to follow them. But we can do this one of two ways. One; I do the examination now and you can be free to go within the hour. Two; I can ask for another medic to do the examination for me. But they'll need clearance from General Shepherd before they're allowed within ten feet of you for a start. You can take the chance and see just how far up the list of the General's priorities you are if you like, but if you ask me you'll be stuck in this medical bay for the rest of the day, minimum." She watched his reaction carefully, his brow furrowing as he fought hopelessly to hide a scowl. "As I said, it's your call,  _sir._ "

 _Bloody checkmate._  Lara folded her arms, trying as hard as possible to stop a smug smile from spreading out across her features as Price remained silent.

"Let's just get this over with." When his answer finally came, it was filled with gruff indignation. Lara saw no need to reply and add salt to his wounds when he stood slowly, his hands moving to yank the hem of his scabby t shirt up and over his head.

His clothes had hidden a multitude of sins. For a relatively short man he had a sturdy, stocky frame. The fabric had hung off of his shoulder and hips, creating the illusion of a man larger than he actually was. With the loss of his clothing, the true extent of Price's condition suddenly hit home with resounding force. He was thin, painfully so, creases of skin hanging from protruding ridges of bone. The muscle he had retained was clearly visible, his limbs wiry and covered with weathered skin. Most startling of all was the patchwork of colour that littered his body. Scratches of different shades of red streaked across his forearms, each cut at a different stage of the healing process, some still pink and angry, others dark and scabbed over. But the bruising was everywhere. Yellow and green patches indicated old hits to his chest and back that were struggling to heal, whilst the deep purple and blue bruises around ribs were more worrying still, deep blossoming marks that showed sharp kicks or punches to his abdomen. Lara quickly scribbled an x ray request onto her notes. It should have been standard procedure, but with each and every new bruise she worried more and more that his ribs at the very least might be in a poor state.

She took the stethoscope from her neck, feeling that little bit more confident with the familiar weight in her hands. She'd had it throughout her studies, an overenthusiastic present from her brother when she'd received her letter of acceptance from medical school. Ever the sentimentalist, Lara had taken it to every one of her medical placements since. Now, she pressed it firmly to Price's chest, his heart ringing loud and clear in her ears. It was a steady, healthy sound, slightly faster than she would have liked but she quickly put that down to his more than obvious white coat syndrome. Next she listened to his breathy, checking for any rasping or rattling in his chest. Surprisingly, his breathing was relatively clear.

Next was his abdomen. She moved carefully, palpating his mid-section in quadrants, checking for any lumps, bumps and inflammation. A couple of his ribs gave her cause for concern and she jotted the notes down on the clipboard along with a request for an abdominal ultrasound. Throughout, Price remained stoic, his body barely even flinching.

"Does that hurt?" She looked upwards to meet his gaze.

"No." She didn't believe him for a second. There was no way in hell that he wasn't feeling any ill effects or discomfort from the bruising on his torso, Lara had taken enough knocks to her abdomen herself to know that. Likely he was telling her what she wanted to hear. Either way, Lara pretended to at least take the bait with this one, reserving judgement until she had the results of the ultrasound and x rays firmly in hand. "Could you tell me about how you got the bruising?"

"I fell down the stairs." There was a hint of amusement in Price's voice as he pulled his shirt back on. He gave her a long look, his eyebrows raised. "I was in prison. How do you think?"

"I need a little more to go on than that. Can you tell me the nature of-"

"No." Price shook his head resolutely. Suddenly his stare had become so much of a challenge and somehow Lara knew it was something she wasn't equipped to win. There were other ways, better ways to try and get this kind of information, an angry standoff in a medical bay definitely not one of them. She quickly added another note to her clipboard.  _Recommend psychological evaluation._

"So what's the verdict then?" There was an uneasiness in Price's voice that caught Bones off guard compared to the stubborn quality of before.

"There isn't one just yet. I want your x rays and blood results back before I make any real kind of judgment."

"I wasn't talking about that," his tone was curt. "Am I fit for duty?"

"I wasn't under the impression that you were still active." McCoy regretted how blunt her statement had been when she saw Price flinch. Inwardly she cursed herself for being so careless. He recovered quickly however, squaring up to her with renewed confidence.

"The world's gone to shit and the old rules don't apply anymore. Shepherd'll know that more than anyone else."

"Either way, I still need all your results before I can form any real opinion." McCoy decided that it was far safer to steer clear of the subject of his reinstatement from now on.

"How long?"

"A couple of days? It's not for me to say."

"I don't have that kind of time," the words left his mouth as a frustrated hiss.

"With respect, that's not my problem, sir."

"Isn't it?" An almost bitter laugh erupted from his cracked lips, immediately throwing McCoy off guard. His mouth still set in a smile; he ran a hand through what remained of his hair. "You're familiar with Soap I take it?"

"Of course. He's my CO…" McCoy wasn't entirely sure she liked where this question was headed.

"Then you must have noticed it too. Those bags under his eyes, the harassed tone in his voice? He's a brilliant soldier and a damn good lad to go with it, but Shepherd threw him head first into the fire when he gave him his first real command with the 141 He's buckling under pressure, you don't need to have known him long to see that."

"And so what are you saying? That you could do a better job?" Lara folded her arms, her voice immediately on the defensive. She hoped that the sudden display of loyalty didn't seem misplaced but at the same time she refused to let Price so openly doubt MacTavish. After all, the Captain might have struggled with what his command meant on more than one occasion, but he'd led the 141 through hell and back and his men still loved him for it.

" _No_ …" Price shook his head. "I have more respect for that lad then you could ever bloody appreciate. But he needs me. Needs someone to make the decisions that he can't."

"With respect, command doesn't work that way."

"A bit rich for you to talk to me about command," Price almost snarled, although he kept his tone low making it all the more menacing. "I was training blokes in the SAS while you were still in basic training, I wouldn't be so quick to lecture me about how the world work,  _love_."

"And in the end it doesn't matter what I think. If the General needs you on the team then the decision will be out of my hands regardless of my opinion, medical or otherwise."

"A clean bill of health will make that infinitely easier."

"So you call me naïve and then ask for my help?" McCoy quirked an eyebrow. "And what happens if I give you this clean bill of health and say your fit for duty? What happens if I'm proved wrong? If my friends are put in unnecessary danger because of my mistake?" She crossed her arms. "You're asking for a lot more than just lying to my commanding officer here."

"You just have to trust that I'm old enough to know my limits."

"I barely know you, never mind trust you."

"But you trust Soap, correct?" He gave her a burning look, his grey eyes focused, as if he knew he was onto something. "Of course you do, you jumped to his defense in an instant. He trusts me implicitly, without bloody question. That has to count for _something_ , doesn't it?"

"That's completely different."

"Is it? That kind of trust comes out of years of hauling each other's arses out of the fire so many times that we've both lost count. All I'm asking is to be there for him to depend on again," Price sighed, his shoulders hunched. Suddenly the anger and frustration in his voice was lost, instead replaced by an odd kind of vulnerability. "I  _need_  to be in this fight, McCoy."

"I'll get a report to Shepherd as soon as I can," Lara finally said after a pause, taking a step backwards as if to illustrate that the conversation was over. She was fighting a losing battle, one that was likely to drag on if she didn't make her exit sooner rather than later. "In the meantime you're free to go. For what it's worth, I suggest you get a hot meal and plenty of sleep."

"And my results?"

"As I said, I'll make a decision when I can." McCoy turned on her heel, her right hand gripping her clipboard tightly. She had no intention of being pressed to come to a decision until she was asked to, no matter how much he pleaded or tried to sway her. She was all ready to leave the medical bay then and there rather than be drawn reluctantly into another discussion, but as she neared the door something made her stop and turn around. The words were bitter on her tongue, but she found herself speaking them before she could even try and bite them back regardless.

Maybe she hadn't learnt as much self-restraint as she'd previously thought…

"The 141 is my family. You can call me green as much as you like, hell you can joke all you want about the fact that I was probably still in high school when you started out. But if you're half the soldier I've heard about then even  _you_  must appreciate the fact that the bond I have with them, that the  _trust_  they have in me is the most important thing I have now. I won't risk that for just anything. I won't risk  _them_ ," she shrugged, her hands hanging idly by her sides. "So if you want your last blaze of suicidal glory then be my guest. But don't you dare ask me to endanger them just so that you can have it."

* * *

"So… how long do you think some of these girls have been at sea for?" Toad laughed, leaning back in his seat.

"Not long enough to find your skinny arse attractive." Archer rolled his eyes, his palms nursing a cup of coffee in an acrylic grey mug. The corners of his mouth quirked up into the briefest of smiles. "I'd quit while you're ahead, mate."

"I could die tomorrow…"

"You're playing the sob story angle, really?" Roach laughed from his place on the floor, his head leaning against his bunk. They'd been in the rec room for less than 24 hours and even so the place resembled a bombsite, littered with what little personal effects they had and a multitude of empty food wrappers. "I thought you were supposed to be able to get  _anyone_  into bed?"

"I never mentioned how," Toad simply replied with an over confident wink.

With MacTavish still trapped in all the duties that made Riley glad that he didn't have command, Ghost was left to babysit the task force. For the most part this involved sitting around in confined spaces with them and making sure that morale stayed high. Technically it also meant that he was responsible should any of them decide to do anything stupid, but since Toad was always talking about shagging  _something_ , Riley saw no need to intervene.

Besides, having banged their medic himself, Simon was in no real rush to label himself as a hypocrite either.

And in reality, the banter that they all threw around so casually had a deeper, ulterior motive. They might have been cut off from regular radio and TV updates, but on a ship like this, there was no avoiding  _talking_. The ship was buzzing with news, opinions and thoughts on the war, on what was happening for many of the 141 right on their doorstep. Even though everyone he cared for were well removed from the invasion, Ghost himself could relate to the sense of unease just as much as the others. He wasn't a man to sit around on his arse and wait, none of them were. They were elite because they constantly strived to be in the middle of the action, to be where the fighting was thickest and the stakes were highest. It was what they were trained to do, what was expected of them, hell it was what they expected of  _themselves_. Resting on their laurels when the rest of the world seemed to be fighting felt wrong, almost cowardly, even if it wasn't a conscious choice any of them had actually made. And stuck at sea with a crew who avoided them like the plague, the only real diversion they had was each other.

For a split second, Riley found himself wishing for one of Meat's stupid arsed comments. There was no denying the fact that the task force had laughed one hell of a lot less since they'd lost Greg and Alex.

A loud screech accompanied the door to their makeshift quarters opening and there was Bones, her face like a smacked arse. Her expression was drawn, weary, the very image of a person who looked as though they'd been forced through the proverbial wringer for the past couple of hours. If Ghost hadn't known any better, he would have simply put it down to pure fatigue, but having met Price a good few times in the past, Riley didn't doubt for a second that the old bastard had been asserting himself in places where he shouldn't.

He wasn't about to go over there and check on her, she had Gary for that after all, although in the truth Roach was hardly in his most perceptive state thanks to his lingering concussion. But as McCoy made a beeline for him, Riley wasn't about to back away from her either. It seemed that his talk with Bones earlier, however strained and brief it may have been, had reassured her that they still had some kind of friendship left. Considering Lara's fetish for crippling herself with guilt and regret, Ghost was almost impressed.

" _Fuck…_ "

"Bad day at the office, huh?" He quirked an eyebrow as Lara collapsed down onto the seat beside him. He barely gave her a moment's attention, his eyesight flickering back to the others just in time for him to catch Roach glancing in their direction. His expression was an odd mix of surprise and wariness.

"How'd you guess?"

"You look like shit," he told her with a rough shrug.

"I feel ten times worse," she shrugged back, the following laugh more breathy than anything else. Tilting her head backwards she half looked in his direction. "Price is…"

"A force of nature, I know." She sounded exhausted,  _looked_  even more so. It reminded him more of the old McCoy, of the almost painfully naïve medic who had practically side stepped into their rec room one evening. The old Bones, back when she was an outsider fighting for some form of real recognition from her peers. She'd permanently looked exhausted back then, her features drawn whenever her tough exterior armour cracked enough to let it show. It was the kind of exhaustion only seen on the faces of people trying that little bit  _too_  hard, people who were desperately looking to prove themselves and their actions. Hell, Ghost himself knew more about those kind of masks than most. He'd been wearing a similar one for years.

Once upon a time he hadn't given a shit about what masks McCoy tried to wear. Then he'd become almost obsessed with seeing just how good those masks were, almost relishing the way that with each visit to his room he'd see a new crack in Lara's self defense, that the more he pushed her, the more he saw the real McCoy. Then suddenly she wasn't acting anymore, not for him and not for anyone. Somehow she had slotted into the task force, filled a niche that none of them had known was wanting before. She hadn't needed a mask in months, until now. Riley didn't doubt for a second that it was because somehow, someway Price had managed to back her into a corner, force her to don that Ice Queen smile again. He wasn't sure where the emotion came from, but there was something about that that Riley didn't quite like.

All their other shit aside, McCoy had earned her place with the 141. She'd paid for it in blood, sweat, and one hell of a lot of tears. In Ghost's opinion at least, Price didn't have the right to even  _think_  otherwise.

Not that he was about to admit any of that to her, anyway.

"Simon," There it was, that tone of voice that never seemed to end in a conversation that he actually  _wanted_  to have. Unwilling to cede any ground, Riley reluctantly turned and met her gaze, although he refused to speak first, the situation was beyond uncomfortable already. "I just wanted…" Her right hand hovered towards him and his bicep immediately tensed, his body suddenly rigid. It hadn't been a conscious decision as such and yet Lara seemed to notice his body flinch away from hers, her hand dropping back down to her side in an instant. She bit her lip, her voice all the more sheepish this time around. "I just wanted to say thanks."

 _Ahhh._ It was one of those conversations. If it hadn't been obvious as hell under the circumstances, Riley would have allowed himself a good eye roll. She wanted to thank him for earlier, for defending her in spite of the bollocks Shadow Company had been chatting behind her back. She wanted him to know that it meant something, that she'd been so oblivious that she'd never really stopped to think about how she'd become an intrinsic part of their team. And most of all she wanted him to know that she cared, even now, after everything she'd done and said. That his opinion mattered all the more  _because_  he cared, because he hadn't just blocked her out all but entirely as she'd probably first expected.

But in truth, Riley knew all that, even before the words left her mouth. And he was pretty sure that he could read her a damn sight more eloquently than she could explain herself…

"You don't owe me shit, McCoy." It wasn't his greatest line, but it was the best he could think of right then.

"What?"

"I know where this is headed and all I'm saying is we don't need to go there, ok?"

"But what you said earlier-"

"What I said earlier doesn't have much to do with you and me, if that's what you mean." He fixed her with a firm stare. "I'd have said it regardless of what shit had or hadn't gone on between us. Shadow Company like to talk out of their arses, no self respecting member of the 141 would tolerate their bullshit, no matter who it is exactly that they're busy slagging off."

"I see," her voice had become smaller, almost embarrassed and McCoy seemed to almost shrink away from him. He'd been too blunt; he knew it in an instant. She'd seen him defending her as some kind of olive branch and here he was saying that he would have defended anyone, whether he gave a fuck about them or not. In all fairness, that wasn't  _entirely_  true.

"I meant what I said, okay?" Now it was his turn to feel uncomfortable, his right hand gravitating upwards to scratch at the back of his head. "But I'm not the kind of guy to sweep everything under the rug and pretend it's all peaches."

"Really?" She cocked a quizzical eyebrow.

"You know me, Bones. I can't just let shit go like it was nothing. MacTavish can, Gary can, hell maybe even you can. But I  _can_ _'_ _t_."

"I know."

"But credit me with not being a complete and utter arsehole, okay?" He watched as she nodded slowly, her expression surprisingly unreadable. At best, he guessed that Lara herself didn't know what she was feeling at this point.

"Well… thank you." She was withdrawing at this point, soft smile pushed across her weary features. She looked him in the eye, her teeth momentarily worrying at her bottom lip. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Yeah…" The word came out in a complete exhale. "I get that."

She was headed for the safety of Roach and he had no desire to stop her. After all, what more was there to say? He knew Lara wanted something more, was desperate for some kind of absolution for what she'd done. She wanted a resolution to what had happened between them, and maybe underneath it all, so did he. But he was a realist and there was no denying the fact that he had given her everything he had to give. He couldn't just forget. He couldn't with his family and he couldn't with her. Maybe he simply couldn't forgive and forget when it came to the things that mattered. He just wasn't that selfless.

With anyone else he was certain that he could happily go on holding this kind of grudge forever, no matter how many cow eyed looks and apologies they fed him. But with McCoy… Resigning her to be something meaningless in his thoughts felt impossible. She meant more to him than that, she had for a long time now. She was a head-fuck and in a lot of ways she didn't deserve his forgiveness in any shape or form. Even so, Simon just didn't have the heart to push her aside completely.

He had changed, she'd been right about that one. Unfortunately, he'd just not changed as much as either of them had hoped.

 


	30. Blind Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

There were a lot of reasons to hate being a woman in the 141. The lack of female friends, the number of times you would have to endure jokes about Megan Fox's tits, the fact that every time you lost your temper someone,  _somewhere_  was bound to make a joke about PMT.

Having your own place to shower, however, was one of the rare advantages.

The instant she pushed her aching body under the steady stream of water, Bones began to wash away and spiral down the drain. What was left was simply Lara, naked and as free as she had felt since stepping foot onto this god awful ship.

The bathroom was cramped and basic, but right then it might have just have easily been a five star spa at the Ritz. The water was warm unlike back at Site Hotel Bravo and the absence of the cave setting meant that Lara felt as though she was actually getting clean, rather than simply covering herself in a fresh thin layer of particulate dust. As a result, McCoy decided to relish in this brief moment of pure isolation, holding her breath as she allowed the torrent of water to flow freely down her face and neck. Exquisite white noise immediately enveloped her senses and she let her head fall back, her hands messing through the tousled strands of her hair.

The relaxation the water provided her with was only temporary and that knowledge alone robbed her of a small amount of satisfaction. Experience told her that she had about ten minutes of hot water maximum, enough to scrub the camo paint and grime from her body, but not nearly enough time for her to even begin to feel remotely human again. Already her body was beginning to ache, her muscles almost familiarly strained thanks to the irregular movement that being in combat brought. Faint bruises had also begun to blossom on her skin, although in truth she had no idea where half of them had come from; adrenaline was the best pain killer she knew of and only now after it had worn off did she become aware of the scratches, scrapes and damage to her skin. At the back of her mind Lara still counted herself lucky whenever she came out of a firefight relatively unscathed, but that didn't stop her from grimacing the instant the soap from her hair managed to set every one of the shallow grazes in her skin on fire.

All too soon, the modest cubicle grew too quiet for Lara's liking. It was ironic how she spent the majority of her time, especially since she'd lost the safety of her office, wishing for time alone and yet when she finally had it; it simply gave her too much time to think. In truth, what consumed her thoughts would change on a daily basis, from the guilt she felt over the scant truth she could tell her family to the rare moments when she allowed her thoughts to dwell on what she and Riley had truly shared. If over thinking was an Olympic sport, McCoy would have taken the gold and as she began to rinse the shampoo from her slightly less knotted hair, McCoy was well aware that today was no exception.

 _Price._ Just remembering that morning's events had her clenching her teeth. In short, he had been miles away from the man she had imagined thanks to Soap's stories. In her mind's eye, he had been a tall, stoic man who was someone who commanded respect the instant they stepped into a room. In all fairness, the Price she had met easily commanded something, but it was anxiety rather than respect. He'd been playing an elaborate game with her all along, testing her, looking for weaknesses, advantages to exploit. He had been desperate to find a foothold, to find something to give him the upper hand and to force her onto the ropes. Lara was more than a little disappointed in herself too. She should have shrugged off his comments more, not given the rise that he was so desperately looking for as he belittled her. Whether it was thanks to the comments from Shadow Company or something else, Lara just wasn't sure, but her skin was nowhere near as thick right now as it should have been. She simply had not been able to shrug him off.

She couldn't help but wonder if Soap's Price was still under there somewhere, trapped beneath walls and walls of meticulously presented facades. She had expected a war hero, a leader and in reality all she had seen so far was a man desperately trying to cling to a world that no longer wanted him.

Her personal feelings aside, one question still remained; what should she do with Price? Somehow the decision didn't feel purely medical. It was weighted in politics and emotion, even when she forced herself to be completely and utterly impartial, Price's condition fell into a grey area. He was underweight and bruised, that much was more than apparent, but nothing about his results so far stood out as remarkable. In an ideal world she'd order a CT scan to check that he was physically sound, but fate had landed her on a ship without a working scanner. She could delay her judgment until a scan was completed, but with the majority of Price's results falling into healthy zones, she didn't have the evidence to justify that. On the face of it, she could clear him with the data she had already. After all the decision of whether or not he would be reinstated was dependent on him being medically healthy, but was not guaranteed regardless. In truth, Lara failed to understand why Shepherd would so obviously undermine MacTavish's authority in the 141 by allowing Price back into the mix.

And yet, something still lingered at the back of her thoughts and made her question herself. There was something… not quite right about Price. All of his bravado and stern comments aside, Price was near desperate to re-join the fight. What had surprised her even more was how much he had openly doubted MacTavish's command and somehow that in itself screamed desperation more than how he had refused to show pain or give her any real answers as to just what exactly had been done to him within that Gulag. Added together, Lara had a real sense of unease about Price's mentality, a strong gut reaction that she was finding difficult to ignore. She didn't have the time nor the resources to get Price a full and complete psychological evaluation and yet Lara was confident that her suspicions alone would not be enough.

The worst feeling of all was that despite her feelings, this was the one thing Lara just couldn't go to MacTavish about for advice. His rose tinted goggles meant that Price was still the larger than life mentor from his past, the man who dispensed sage fatherly advice and had single handedly dragged him through some of the hardest trials of his career. Would John even listen to her if she voiced her doubts to him? Or would he simply cast off her anxieties as naïve aspersions simply because she didn't know the man? Lara had never imagined that she would have to compete for his loyalty with Price and in all honesty, Lara was pretty sure that if pressed, MacTavish would still side with his mentor over her.

Pushing all that aside, there was no denying the vulnerability she'd seen in Soap's eyes when she entered the medical bay. He was wrong footed, lost, and confused and yet somehow there had still been more hope in his face than she'd seen in months. There'd been relief there too, maybe even some comfort. How could she take that away from him after everything he'd been through over the last six months?

That gave her even more cause to chastise herself. The love she had for John was complicating a decision in which it should never have even been a factor. That guilt in itself was not a new sensation, in truth it was a near constant presence in her thoughts, even more so since their frustrated kiss back in Soap's office. Left unchecked, their relationship had grown and even if every bit of common sense Lara possessed screamed at her to back away from him, she was enough of a realist to know when she was in too deep for that to be an option. Besides, with the world tearing itself to shreds and their very lives hanging in the balance, McCoy had simply decided that John was worth the guilt.

 _John._ Lara's fingernails raked across her abdomen absently as she washed herself. He was one person she really  _shouldn_ _'_ _t_ think about in the shower.

For a split second she thought that her imagination had entered a whole new level of vivid. But as Lara looked down and saw two familiar hands wind around her waist, any notion that this wasn't real dissipated instantly.

She glanced over her left shoulder, her mouth parted. Soap instantly leaned forwards and met her lips with a kiss, his mouth tugging gently at her skin. His hands continued to wander across her wet skin, his fingers splayed as they explored her stomach, pulling her closer to him in the process. His skin was so hot that it made the shower water seem cool.

His mouth dropped down to her jaw, a line of kisses pressed along the firm ridge and up to her ear. He hesitated there for a moment before graduating down on her neck, his stubble scratching lightly at her throat. When he reached the base of her neck, he bit down just hard enough to send an electric shockwave down her spine and her nails digging into his forearms.

She tried to turn in his arms, but the mouth on her collarbone and the firm body behind her held Lara firmly in place. A low chuckle escaped from the Captain's lips when she tried again and he sucked at her shoulder a little harder, almost as though it was supposed to pacify her. His right hand slipped lower, moving between her legs in a way that forced an indecent groan from Lara's mouth. Another throaty laugh fell from his mouth and Lara turned her head, pressing her lips against his in a move that was half to shut him up and half to stop herself from making any more noise.

His hand was beginning to drive her insane, to a point where she was no longer even fully aware of the cascade of water falling all around them. She pulled away from his lips so she could breathe, her head falling heavily against his shoulder. Lara wanted to speak, to voice the hundred or so reasons why this simply just wasn't a good idea. But as his hand picked up the pace and his lips began nuzzling back at her throat, Lara could only think about bloody  _good_ he was at this.

She was biting her lip to hold back a satisfied moan all too soon, with her nails raking against any part of him that they could reach. He let out another throaty laugh, so low that it could have almost been a growl but this time she didn't have the energy to try and stop him, her spent body falling back against his. For a moment he simply held her, his arms tight around her as the thundering underneath her ribcage begun to quieten down.

This new found sense of calm didn't last for long. Every inch of MacTavish's body was pressed tightly against hers, all ridges of smooth muscle and sinew. She could feel his breathing hitch as his hands moved over her again, mapping the parts of her body that they had previously neglected. His mouth returned to her shoulder, lapping against the skin it found their before moving upwards into her hair, firm kisses pressed to her scalp and around her ears. He was grinding into her now, his grip unforgiving as his fingers dug into her hips, holding her close. Desire swelled once more in her stomach, a rough warmth that spread upwards. After all this time, a hand just simply wasn't going to cut it anymore.

In a fluid, if slightly stumbling motion she spun around to finally face him, her dark eyes finally having the chance to drink him in fully, to see the pale trails that the water had begun to cut through the spots of grime and dirt at his temples. She didn't even try to hold back a grin, her hands smoothing across the defined curvature of his shoulders and down onto his chest. Flecks of chest hair fanned out from his sternum, the rough fibers slicked down to the definition that lay beneath his skin thanks to the cascade of water now running down his torso. Her hands ran down further, tracing the lines of his abdominals, her nails ever so slightly dragging for that little bit more friction until her hands came to rest on his hip bones, their grip deliberately possessive. Their eyes met again, honest and unguarded for the first time in days and McCoy could barely manage a self-satisfied grin before John pushed forwards again to join his lips with hers.

Gone were the languid strokes and touches of only minutes before. After all, they'd both waited long enough.

Her bare back met the bitingly cold shower tiles almost immediately, her arms instantly gravitating up so that they were looped firmly around his neck. His body was nudging impatiently against hers and so she lifted her right leg, curving it around his waist and drawing him closer still. They pulled apart again, their foreheads pressed together in what was one finally piece of calm before the storm before MacTavish, with restraint that even she doubted he possessed, inched his hips closer at a tantalizing pace.

A low moan slipped from Lara's mouth and the back of her head knocked against the tile wall. She leaned forwards and licked a long line up the length of his throat, urging him to move.

Suddenly, everything she was feeling was a jumble. Goosebumps raised up on her forearms from the cold tiles that bit into her back, whilst the rest of her body tingled with warmth from the water and from him. Her thought processes were hazy, illogical and completely irrational, based upon little more than want and need. Throughout it all, she barely remembered to keep quiet, fortunate to have the presence of mind to remember just exactly where they were and keep her mouth fixed to John's.

In an instant, cold water assaulted her heated skin. She jumped in shock, bucking against him so that they were both stumbling, the wall lost from her back. Space fell away from them both and they tumbled to the floor, the shower curtain suddenly became tangled between them, the rings popping off of the rail. Landing on top of Soap, Lara found herself laughing, one of her hands coming up to shield her eyes with embarrassment. Beneath her, MacTavish was laughing too and between the two of them they were nigh on hysterical, their foreheads gently bumping together as they shook with laughter.

For a split second, Lara worried that the moment was lost. But as Soap flipped them over with ease and found new purchase on the bathroom floor, she realised that her fears had been completely unfounded.

Her body weighted and sated, Lara would have been content to stay sprawled across the bathroom floor if the tiles hadn't been so damned  _cold._  Instead she was forced to haul her body upwards, ducking under the shower for the quickest rinse possible, John reluctantly following her. They scrubbed at each other's bodies, less of an intimate act and more one born out of necessity as Soap's camo paint was smeared across both their faces now. Sufficiently satisfied they left the shower as quickly as humanly possible, toweling themselves off and walking the short distance to McCoy's bunk, both of them shivering as they crawled onto the bed.

"Hey…" She had never pegged him as being the cuddling type, another aspect of his character she'd underestimated when John reached for her possessively, his left arm pulling her close to rest against his chest. She rolled into his arms willingly, her face nuzzling his skin instinctively. Beneath her ear, his heart hammered in his chest, mirroring her own.

"Steady on," She felt him press a soft kiss to the top of her head, his fingers moving up and playing with the still wet strands of her hair idly. "I'm pretty sure post coital cuddling counts as preferential treatment,  _sir_."

"I think we might be a little past that," he chuckled, the sound rumbling through the walls of his chest. "I can safely say that you're my first."

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Naturally," he laughed again, another kiss pressed firmly into her hair. "But jokes aside… it'd been a while, Lara."

"Is this your way of telling me that it  _wasn_ _'_ _t_  me that drove you into such throws of passion and desperation after all?"

"Desperation?"

"We tore down a shower curtain, John."

"Ahh…" This was clearly news to him. "Well of course it was you, you've been driving me bloody insane for months."

"It's the baggy shirts, isn't it?" She lifted her head up so that she could grin at him. "They really get you going right?"

"Oh aye. The baggy shirts, the graceless coordination, the condescending glances from the other side of the room…"

"Oi!" She jabbed him playfully in the ribs. "Watch it, mate."

"Sorry." His grin suggested that he was anything but, subtle dimples hidden beneath dark stubble. "But seriously… I guess I just didn't plan on being so…  _impatient._ "

"Hang on a minute. John MacTavish; SAS hero, Captain of the 141, one of the best hand picked warriors on the planet… are you really trying to apologise for a bit of rough sex?"

"Not exactly. I just intended for us to take things a little slower first."

"A nice idea. Remind me of it the next time we aren't caught in a tryst on an aircraft carrier."

" _Lara…_ " There was that familiar despairing tone again.

"Hey, beggars can't be choosers right?" She beamed up at him, stroking a thumb across his bottom lip. "And believe me, you weren't on your own."

" _Fuck_ …" That word in particular always sounded that little bit more alien when it tumbled from his lips. His eyes closed, MacTavish's head fell back against the pillow, his right hand falling across his face. A smile still played out across his lips, however it started to dim when he moved his hand, his eyes suddenly burning into hers. "We didn't use-"

"Just how daft do you think I am, exactly?" She should have caught herself but a laugh tumbled from her lips as she watched his face twist in confusion; she'd never seen him look so terrified. "I have the implant. You can sleep easy; there'll be no pitter patter of tiny MacTavish feet as far as I'm concerned."

"I can't believe I didn't even  _think_ …" He shook his head, caught between relief and complete embarrassment. Was that flushed colour to his cheeks the sex or something more? He traced her face with his free hand. "Six months and this is what you've done to me."

"Has it really been that long?"

"For me? I guess so. And before you get all high and mighty Dr McCoy with me, it wasn't because you were the only bit of skirt on the base. Although granted, I thought that was the reason at first."

"So what was it? Your reason I mean?" He rolled his eyes and she nudged him again in the stomach. "Stroke my ego, just this once."

"I swear I've done more than my fair share." He gave her a devilish look. "But it was your eyes that did it for me. Still is if I'm honest."

"You've had six months to work on that line…"

"Shite, you got me there." He squeezed her shoulders with his arm, his grip tight. His remark might have been teasing and playful but the way he held her spoke of something more. He tilted his head, blue eyes ghosting over her face, almost as if he was committing it to memory. Another smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "For what it's worth though, I never thought I would have the chance to use it."

For once, Lara didn't really have anything to say to that. The impact of that one sentence affected her more than she anticipated, a strange warmth spreading through her. She looked up at Soap with fresh eyes, her left hand reaching up to trace the blunt angle of his jaw. His head had fallen back against the pillow now, his chin prominent as it jutted upwards. Her fingers sank lower, gently stroking down his neck and coming to rest on his collar bone, a large mottled scar of what he'd claimed was a rugby injury underneath her touch. He made a small noise of tired appreciation, his eyes slipping closed as her thumb slowly circled the scar. Like a bullet to the chest, McCoy was suddenly hit by the realisation that there was very little she wouldn't do for this proud, stubborn Scotsman.

"You really love him, don't you?" She wasn't sure where the question came from but suddenly MacTavish's attentions were back on her, his face puzzled. "Price, I mean."

"Aye, I do," he let out an almost amused sigh. "He's an awkward bastard; his way is the right way and the rest of the world can go to hell. But he's a good bloke and a damn good Captain. When he left… a lot of men felt like the rug had been ripped out from under them, myself included."

"But you've managed, right? You have your own command now, your own men…" Lara wasn't sure if it was MacTavish or herself that she was trying to reassure at this stage.

"I've been Captain five years; you don't get that far without being able to handle it. Hell, they'd have never given me the job if they thought I wasn't made for it," he shrugged, averting his gaze. "But that doesn't mean that I felt ready the day I stepped up into the 141. I was all reputation back then, my men didn't know me, they didn't know each other, there was nothing holding us together as a unit other than the bare bones of command. It's never been easy for me to admit, but I spent a lot of days sitting at my new desk and wishing Price was there. Not because I  _needed_  him, but because I still felt like there was a lot of things he'd never had the chance to teach me. I'm pretty sure he could still teach me a good thing or two." He gave her shoulders an almost apologetic squeeze. "He's just a better man than me, Lara."

"You can't mean that…"

"Why? Because the Price you saw this morning was nothing more than a washed up, wounded animal?" There was a sudden defensive edge to MacTavish's voice that unsettled her. "Look, I know he probably didn't sell himself to you today, but you have to realise that's not the _real_  Price. He's backed in a corner, been through hell and to top it all off…" He hesitated, his tongue snaking out to moisten his lips. "To top it all off, the military was all he had. Being here but not being a part of this, it's got to be killing him."

"And you think he should be? Be a part of all this?"

"It's not my decision to make. But then again I would never have sent him away in the first place."

"I need you to tell me why, John." She was sitting up in an instant, propped up on one elbow with the sheet wrapped around her body, her eyes almost challenging. She'd never expected the conversation to bring them here, but now her head was swimming with questions, desperate to make sense of what he was saying. After all, the stakes were higher than even MacTavish himself knew. "I need you to make me understand what it is about him that makes him so…  _dependable_. Even now."

"You want me to explain my faith in him?" He sat up to match her, his face incredulous. "Lara, I'm not even sure I can. I don't even know where I'd start!"

"Then just give me something."

"He made that good an impression then, eh?" He shook his head, his shoulders hunched. For a second she thought he was angry, a frustrated hiss leaving his lips as he ran a hand across the top of his head. When his eyes came back to rest on hers however, his voice remained soft and calm. "Look, the Price sitting in that medbay is  _not_  the man I remember. And that Gulag might have been responsible for taking his dignity, his strength, his health, but he'd lost one hell of a lot more before he went missing. How could he not after what they did?"

"And what did they do?"

"They told him he was too old," he answered with a rough shrug. "Age catches up with us all, I know that but we'd both literally just got out of hospital in Birmingham. We were preparing to head back down to Hereford when our CO took Price off for a 'debrief'. He never told me what they said to him exactly and I doubt he ever will, but I managed to get the jist of it. I still remember his face. They handed me my promotion the same day they handed him his retirement papers."

The flinch that had passed across Price's features when she mentioned his inactive status flashed across Lara's mind's eye. "That must have killed him."

"And then some. Men like Price  _exist_ to be soldiers. The army is a meat grinder, we all know that when we start out. But it took the best years of his life, promised him everything and then replaced him with someone he loved like a son. It should have been Price leading the 141, God knows he had earned it. Had he been just five years younger, it would have been."

A twist of something jerked at the pit of McCoy's stomach. Guilt? Sympathy? Despite everything she'd seen and heard from Price that morning, there was no denying that the circumstances of his 'retirement' had been harsh and that was putting it kindly. The man's behavior begun to make that little bit more sense in the back of her head, his desperation, his unwillingness to be labeled as a civilian once again. But Lara was too proud to let his previous transgressions slide even so, even in light of how John spoke about him now.

"He's still desperately looking for that kind of direction again, even after all these years."

"Exactly. And the sad truth is that I haven't seen that driven bloke who used to scare me shitless since his regiment days. At first he was just distant, he blamed me, was jealous of me, I understood that. Then he was working, probably bored shitless babysitting some oil baron's kid. The last time I saw him, we went for a pint, ended up on the whisky. He barely said a word." He looked away, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed particularly hard. His next sentence was barely even audible. "You don't know what I'd give to have the bloke I knew back."

 _Shit._ The responsibility on Lara's shoulders was growing with each passing second. She was torn, caught between Price and a hard place. Instead of the clarity she'd wanted, now her thoughts were fogged even more, her every option suddenly feeling morally ambiguous. Was what was best for her patient physically best for him mentally? Was he even mentally stable anymore? Was MacTavish? Price had successfully seeded doubt in her mind and now she looked at MacTavish with a novel sense of scrutiny. Was it so obvious? Did he still need Price? Would it have been better for someone else to make the decisions that he'd have to make, choices that she knew better than most still haunted the Captain more than he let on? Would Chemo's blood have stained Price's hands any less? These were all decisions that Lara felt painfully under qualified to answer.

Once again, words were failing her. Instead she pressed forwards, cupping his face in her hands. There was nothing more to say as she pushed closer, her lips against his firmly. She'd never wanted this; it was such a waste, this rare time they had together alone and they were discussing Price? No matter what she thought, what Soap thought, there was no way she was letting the old man rob her of  _this_.

They fell backwards, Lara half on top of him, her hands wrapped around his neck. His hands gravitated up to her back, his fingers splayed, finger tips tracing the ridge of her shoulder blades. She loved how he touched her now, like he suddenly had permission to show some kind of possession over her, as though she meant something. Lying in his arms was the most important Lara had ever felt in her life.

"I'm sorry," he pulled away, although his forehead remained resting against hers. "I guess Price is a sore subject for me right now."

"I pushed you, didn't I?" She moved forwards for another chaste kiss. "It was my fault for making you talk shop in bed."

"Makes you question why we're talking shop in the first place."

"Because it's all we have?" She shook her head, although her mouth quirked into a smile. "Fucking hell… that's depressing, isn't it?"

"There's a war on you know." He nudged her nose with his, pulling away that little bit further so he could look at her fully. "But yeah, makes you wonder how anyone can step back from any of  _this_."

"Are you honestly trying to tell me that you've thought about it?"

"Thought about it?  _Sure._  I hate to break it to you McCoy but I've only got about ten good years of service before I'm in the danger zone myself. They won't throw me out of the forces, but they'll give me a higher rank maybe. Swap my rifle for a full time desk."

"It's hard to imagine the task force without you."

"Maybe, but someone has to. Call me arrogant but my replacement is damned important. Riley and Archer are good blokes, but they're both the same age as me so I can hardly put a good word for either of them."

"So it's going to have to be one of the younger guys like Toad or Roach then?"

"Chris is a damn good soldier and one of the best marksmen I've had the pleasure of working with, but he plays too loose with strategy to be a leader. Besides, I struggle to imagine him staying with Archer gone."

"And Gary?"

"Gary has got it, whatever  _it_  actually is. He's a brilliant soldier, one of the best Delta have given us so far. He's disciplined, quick with strategy and he's held his own with everything I've thrown at him."

"He'd do you proud." An intense wave of pride swept through McCoy at the mere mention of her friend. Gary was a natural born leader; he just hadn't begun to appreciate that quality in himself yet. He was compassionate, one of the best friends she could have ever asked for. But he wasn't soft, he had a harder quality, something that Lara knew would serve him well and help him make those tough calls that would make lesser men crumble. Hell, she'd seen him do it already in the favela the day Meat died, watched him struggle through the guilt of Royce's death and how actions might have inadvertently led to it. Many other people, herself included might have been tempted into a pit of self-hatred after that, but not Gary. He was indefatigable, tenacious to the last. She could see him as the kind of leader to be relentless in combat and then laugh it all off in the rec room later with his men. A Captain they would follow into hell without question. Lara herself would stand by him through absolutely anything.

"Aye, he would. But he's got a long while to grow up yet, God willing anyway." He bent his head, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "And hopefully he'll have the sense  _not_  to fall for his medic."

"You think there'll be more women like me in the 141?"

"Other women? Sure, it's inevitable when you think about it. But women like you? I'm not so sure that they exist. You are hands down the most stubborn, toughest woman I've ever met, and believe me, my ma usually gives people a good run for their money," he shook his head, his tone becoming that little bit more serious as his left hand moved up and messed through her hair. "But you're bloody dangerous too."

"Dangerous?"

" _D_ _eadly_." He pulled her closer again, his chin resting on the top of her head. "Because right now I care about you more than anything else, my command included. And that absolutely  _terrifies_ me."

Lara wanted to say something, but as the seconds ticked by she quickly realised that there were no words. She wanted to reassure him, to tell him that everything would be ok, but how could she? There was no denying the fact that their relationship jeopardized them both, it was the reason that they'd try to fight it for so long. Everything about them now threatened to compromise their professionalism in the field. After all, could she really stand back and follow orders  _knowing_  that he was in danger? She'd already proved that she couldn't and that was back when he was little more than her friend and Captain.

There was quite literally nothing she could say to make any of it right. And so instead of trying, Lara merely pressed further into his embrace, closing her eyes and desperately willing all her negative thoughts away.

**-x-x-x-x-x-**

They'd only been sleeping for an hour, if that when John woke with a start. He glanced to his left, Lara still lying in his arms, her lips slightly parted as she breathed in and out heavily. He'd never had the chance to see her like this, at peace and truly calm. What shocked him the most was just how  _young_  she suddenly looked.

He couldn't stay with her, they both knew it even if neither of them had voiced it before. He'd already been gone too long and it wouldn't be long before one of the lads missed him. He was no sailor but he didn't need to be to know that gossip spread like wildfire within the confines of a ship like this. Even if he had just committed the biggest misjudgment of his career to date, he had to at least try and maintain a professional image, no matter how hypocritical it might feel.

Disentangling himself proved difficult, Lara's legs still entwined with his beneath the sheets, but with a little effort he was free, his hands slowly lowering her head to the pillow in an attempt not to wake her. A few strands of hair wound up in front of her face and he lacked the strength to stop himself from brushing them aside.

He should have told her and as he pulled on his clothes, Soap inwardly kicked himself. He'd been so close, been ready to open up and damn the consequences. But in the end he simply couldn't. The last time he'd said those words there'd been a ring on Carrie's finger and he hadn't even meant them, they had just been expected of him. It had been another life, another world, a place where he'd been afraid to be himself for fear of isolation. But if he loved anything in this new world, it was the gawky, painfully headstrong, always right and never wrong Lara McCoy. He loved her smile, her hair, her courage, her firm, never faltering sense of duty. He loved the flushed look she gave him after running the assault course an umpteenth time, loved the firm tightness of her leg muscles clamped around his waist. He even loved the way she'd throw her head back when she laughed, her mouth wide open and exposing too many teeth.

The problem was that there was no way of saying all of that without cheapening it with words. She might not have been perfect, but she was  _his_.

And so, true to form, John MacTavish chose to say absolutely nothing. He was doing it for all of the right reasons, but with uncertainty looming on the horizon for them all, it could only ever feel like he was making one huge mistake.

There wasn't time to dwell on the subject any longer. Lara was fast asleep and he had no intention of waking her. The only consolation he could offer himself was that Lara was a smart woman; surely she'd been able to see what he had so desperately, if rather ineloquently been trying to say?

For someone who struggled to sleep, Lara was practically lost to the world when John slipped out of her quarters into the grayscale corridor outside. The ship hummed with activity, voices rattling off of the metallic walls. It might have been the early hours of the morning, but ships like this one rarely went to sleep completely. Either way, battle weary and exhausted, Soap himself could think of little more than the hard bunk that awaited him back when he re-joined the others and he followed the corridor around to the right.

A heavy clang in front of him caused Soap to freeze in his tracks. A door to his left opened inwards. Expecting a member of the ship's crew, MacTavish hastily grasped for an acceptable reason for him to be wandering around this part of the ship alone. As it happened, he didn't need one.

"Soap…" The figure was dressed in Navy surplus gear, a grey blue t-shirt hanging from his gaunt frame. The tone of his voice rang with both disapproval and disappointment.  _Price_. The one man Soap didn't want to know about his biggest failing and yet the only person he should have realised he couldn't keep it from.

"You should be in bed, mate." He didn't want to back down to him but at the same time there was little point in playing coy as that would only make things worse. To his own men he could bullshit about being trapped in endless debriefs with Shepherd and Price, but with one of his alibis standing right there in front of him, Soap had nothing to explain being less than ten feet away from Lara's door at this time of night.

"As should you." Price's right eyebrow flicked upwards suggestively, an action that could have been read as amused if Soap hadn't known him so well. There was nothing light hearted in the gesture. In a single move, Price glanced deliberately down the corridor towards Lara's quarters, his eyes then flicking back to MacTavish. His gaze made him feel uncomfortable but he held it anyway. "Get some sleep, son." There was a tired quality to his voice that sounded so much more than mere physical fatigue alone.

" _Sir._ "

Price retreated back into his room, not even attempting to say anything more. In fairness, he didn't need to; his body language had spoken volumes. Typical of Price, the man was able to convey so much without words, at least to those who knew him well. And he  _did not_ approve. Not of Lara in the first place, that was abundantly clear, and he certainly didn't approve of their physical relationship, whether it was new or well established. Price after all was a traditionalist, he always had been. A distraction when Soap needed his wits about him the most was bad enough, but fraternisation? That quiet look had been ten times more effective than a long drawn out lecture and Price  _knew_  it.

The worst of it was, Price was right. Both Bones and himself had made a decisive move, for better or for worse. All that remained now was to hope that somehow it wouldn't prove to be the death of either of them…

 


	31. Serenity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

_he first thing that struck him was the cold, stone floor. He was pinned down, winded, his arms held firmly behind his back, his body suddenly a cage._

_There was laughter, although he wasn't sure where from. It was heavy, louder when what felt like a knee was forced into his lower back. His face was pressed even further into the floor, sharp gravel cutting into his skin and invading his mouth._

_He fought to breathe. At first it was difficult, until the body was lost from his back, his lungs inflating almost instantly in a desperate scrabble for fresh air._

" _двигаться! Move, old man."_

_A voice from behind him, quickly followed by a kick to the ribs. What air he had managed to suck in left in a single pained hiss. His arms were free and he brought them forwards, his hands outstretched as he attempted to haul himself across the floor. Where he was headed, he had no idea, only that he had to go_ _**somewhere** _ _._

_His body wasn't complying, his legs weak and practically useless, his knees scraping along the floor. The muscles in his shoulders burned from exertion and his face was set in grim determination, his teeth biting into his bottom lip. Every fibre of his body simply wanted to give up, to flop to the ground and embrace the beating that would surely follow. But he would not give them that satisfaction. To endure or to give in was the only choice he had left and he refused to let them win on principle._

_Another kick to the stomach, so hard that bile retched at the back of his throat. He ceased moving, his arms shooting to his aching abdomen. His chest was bare, his elbows bleeding from crawling on the rough ground. A wrench of muscle and his arms were restrained behind his back once more, leaving him open and vulnerable all over again._

_A boot pressed to the side of his skull, the pressure firm enough to hold him down, but light enough not to crush him. The laughter was there again, but it was lighter somehow. Straining to look upwards, Price managed to capture the eye of his captor for the first time. Their face was set in an amused grin, eyes filled with vengeful fire._

" _Pathetic." Lara McCoy let out another laugh, her foot pressing that little bit harder against his face. From somewhere, he tasted blood. "Just let it go…"_

"Christ!" As Price sat bolt upright in the darkness, he could still practically see her grinning at him through the gloom.

_Great. Now I'm dreaming about the know it all cow as well?_

The nightmares were nothing new. In the gulag they had been a regular occurrence, like clockwork whenever he was permitted to sleep. Sometimes they were so realistic that he lost track of what he had dreamt and what had actually happened. He'd started to look at his flesh to keep track of what was real, each new bruise and cut a reminder. For a while it had worked, until the bruises became too many for him to keep track of.

The torture nightmares weren't the worst though. They at least could be dealt with in some shape or form. What was worse were the dreams of home. Whisky with Macmillan, cigars with Soap, banter on the range with Gaz. Crystalline memories that meant more to him than anything else. They'd be so realistic too, so vivid that waking up felt like a new torture, like he was being ripped away from everything he held dear. It was weak in a way, to cling to memories of times so far removed and yet in the gulag memories were all he had. Memories and a waning sense of stubbornness in the face of his captors.

They'd gone easier on him recently though, some of his cuts had even been treated, albeit with the most basic of first aid techniques. The only reason Price had been able to deduce was that Makarov wanted his new toy whole and was finally preparing for his grand visit. With the 141 out for his blood and the world happily tearing itself to pieces, maybe hiding out in a gulag in the arse end of nowhere with a new pet had been Makarov's plan all along.

But no, Price wasn't really buying that for a second. Back when they'd been hunting Zakhaev, the SAS had had their sights firmly fixed on his lieutenants too, Price even more so. He'd read every single piece of intel they had at their disposal and somehow Makaraov just struck him as a whole lot cleverer than that.

They were like two sides of the same coin, really. The mad dog and the old dog reckless enough to chase him.

Not that he could do any chasing like this. He may have been free, but he still felt just as caged as he had in the gulag. There was no relief from his rescue, only frustration. Why was everyone looking at him like he was suddenly made of glass? He'd even seen it mirrored back in Soap's eyes. In truth, that had hurt the most.

Why couldn't they see that all these tests and checks were only scratching the surface? Why couldn't anyone understand that the worst thing for him right now was having time to think? He needed to be out there with a rifle in his hands and adrenaline in his veins. He needed to be a soldier again. To have meaning again.

_To be alive again._

And now Lara McCoy, half his age and stubborn as hell threatened to take all that away from him.

She was young, startlingly so. By his rough calculations she must have been in her late twenties at the very most. Born in 87', 88', something like that. Back then he would have been just joining the army, arguing with his father every inch of the way. It was ironic that originally a decision he made to appease his family quickly became the passion he hadn't even realised he was lacking. The military had burned bridges rather than built them, forcing the final wedge between him and his father until the man became almost a distant memory. He hadn't alienated himself on purpose, but it had happened none the less.

And now here he was, almost within touching distance of the life he missed more than anything, and some jumped up cow with a stick up her arse and a year's worth of Sandhurst training was trying to snatch that opportunity from his very fingertips.

What kind of a name was Bones anyway? It was almost like everything about her just screamed defiance, that everything about her told of who she was and where she had come from. That chip on her shoulder was doing her no favours either. He didn't know whether it was his skill at getting underneath her skin or simply because she was naturally a bit hot headed and temperamental; but the rise he had managed to get out of her had been far more than he'd expected. At best, he'd just been trying to defend himself when the world was busy trying to strip him bare.

He had no doubt that Lara McCoy wasn't an exceptional soldier. His brief run ins in the past with General Shepherd had taught him of the man's driven and often meticulous nature; for her to become a member of his hand picked task force was all the proof he needed of her abilities. And in truth, he wasn't particularly bothered by women in the armed forces either. Granted, he hadn't been in command of any for many years, but he had nothing against female soldiers, in abstract at least.

But he was a traditionalist. Even more so,  _a realist_. The grim reality was that he'd been brought up to view women in a certain way, just like every other squaddie in the forces. It was nothing derogatory, he'd served with plenty of female soldiers and many of them were just as capable as their male counterparts, if not more so. And yet, when a woman's life entered the equation, men were more likely to take more risks. It was ingrained, the seeds sewn long before any of them ever stepped foot into the military. It wasn't blind speculation; he'd seen it himself, in truth he'd probably done the exact same thing countless times over without even realising. Because it wasn't a conscious decision, far from it in fact. It was archaic and unfair and everything else, but ultimately, it was just the way things  _were._

Soap was a fine soldier. A good man and an even better Captain. He was loyal, principled. And yet the verging on doe eyed look he'd given Lara in the med bay when he thought Price wasn't looking had spoken volumes. The thought of losing him, to a stupid slip up that was so very beneath him no less, made Price's stomach churn.

And yet she had accused him of being a liability.  _Him_. He was a liability in a world where it was OK for the team medic to fuck her superior officer! He wasn't sure what irritated him more, the insinuation itself or the irony that right now, she was so much more of a liability than he ever could be.

_But then again, maybe I'm just the pot that's calling the kettle black?_

He stood up slowly, his body stiff. He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, but his joints told him that he'd spent the duration locked in the same position. Reaching upwards he cracked his back, wincing as his hands brushed against a particularly potent bruise near the base of his spine. Another excuse to strike him off, he supposed.

He walked, albeit a little stiffly, towards a small sink in the corner of the room. The water was hardly gushing, but he cupped as much of it as he could in his hands and threw it up onto his face, the water cool in comparison to his still heated skin.

When he caught sight of himself in the mirror, the reflection that faced him had not been the one he had been expecting. Where a young man had once stood there was now an old man, gaunt and wizened before his time. It was the first time he'd looked at himself,  _really_ looked at himself since leaving the gulag, and although he'd been aware of his weight loss, he hadn't been prepared to see so much of it reflected in his face. He truly was a shadow of his former self. No wonder Soap had looked at him like that.

_Maybe he was too old after all?_

_No._ He'd come too far to start thinking like that now, had worked too hard for that. Zakhaev had been his prize and even then he'd still been denied the pleasure of putting that last piece of lead between his eyes. Makarov it seemed would have to make a fine substitute. Besides, Price fully intended on finding out on whose orders he had been imprisoned. And if that person, as he suspected it might be, turned out to be Makarov, well, then he had a great deal of score settling to do himself.

There were some scars that were never going to heal.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

To be blunt, it was Trojan's job to be able to read people. He was damned good at it and without his natural sense of intuition, Kevin didn't doubt that he would have still been stuffing envelopes back at the barracks he started out in nearly twenty years before.

True, there'd been a steady amount of impressing the right people and avoiding all the wrong people along the way, but a spook with a poor eye for detail and an oblivious nature was never destined to get all that far. In both of those respects, Trojan believed himself to be one of the best.

Shepherd had head hunted him for Shadow Company seven years previously, back when task force 141 had been nothing more than a concept buried in someone's portfolio. He'd been there for its conception, hell he'd practically selected the team himself, all of the personnel files going through him before they even reached Shepherd. It had been seven years of intense work, his time spent almost constantly in the General's shadow, acting like a glorified PA half of the time. It had been slow, arduous work and although he'd been paid in full with promotion after promotion, being Shepherd's right hand man had come at a price. The family he had he hadn't spoken to, never mind seen in years and he could count the number of friends he had, true friends that is, on one hand.

Regardless, Kevin Jones simply wasn't used to feeling in the dark about  _anything_ any more.

Yet the discovery of the true identity of prisoner 627 had made him feel just that;  _clueless_. Somehow, Price's presence in the gulag had managed to pass them all by. It was common knowledge in Shadow Company that he was missing but from there, it was all just theories. One of Price's jaunts in the circuit had backfired and he'd been killed. Or maybe the die hard soldier himself had been the one to do it; had dropped off the radar and topped himself in the middle of nowhere. At the end of the day, that's what they all were. Harmless theories.

Only Shepherd and by default Trojan himself knew the truth. That Price was missing, but still very much alive. They'd had no physical role in his capture, but their hands were just as dirty all the same. It had been Trojan's intel on Price's whereabouts that had been used, handed to Makarov as a sweetener in a deal that would either make both their careers or backfire and burn them both alive. In the end, it didn't really matter. Trojan was damned sure that they were both headed straight for Hell after what they'd done regardless.

Either way, it was too late now.

It had all sounded so easy, so neat and tidy. Price was old, washed up, he had no use tactically speaking and so handing him over to Makarov was no real loss. In losing Price, they had earned Makarov's temporary trust, which had allowed their temporary alliance to become something concrete.

Both sides were still at war. Makarov gave them two names, men within his inner circle that he no longer trusted and wanted killed; Andrei Antonov and Grigori Baskov. The 141 was to preoccupy itself and hunt them down under the pretence that it would cripple Makarov's operation whilst the General looked for a man suitable for the airport operation. Ultimately he'd found Joseph Allen, and with his death, all ties with Makarov had been severed. They both had what they wanted. Shepherd would have his vengeance for his men who were slaughtered five years before along with a big fat blank cheque to hunt down all of his remaining loose ends and a big dollop of renewed national pride and patriotism on the side. Makarov had just what he wanted too, potential chaos and destruction to the Ultranationalist Borchevsky regime that had spurned his radical ideas and the chance to rise from the ashes and shape Russia according to he and Zakhaev's once shared vision. All that remained now, was who would be the victor. For their plans to completely come to fruition, either Makarov or Shepherd had to die and now it was a race against time to determine which one would make it out alive. With all of the men and resources at Shepherd's disposal, Trojan was safe in the assumption that this was one radical gamble that  _wouldn't_  work in Makarov's favour.

Then again, any intelligence officer worth his salt would tell you that to assume was often a fatal error.

Even so,  _no one_ had expected prisoner 627 to be Price, their one time olive branch. He'd been written off, forgotten. Instead they'd expected another member of Makarov's inner circle, someone who might know where he was hiding or what his tactics might be. Price had been a bitter disappointment in more ways than one. Ever since he'd been found, General Shepherd had been on edge, angry, irritable. When he'd barked at Trojan to come to his office the moment he had McCoy's medical report on Price, Trojan had been wary. He hadn't liked the tone of the General's voice, never mind the deep furrow in his brow when he'd spoken to him.

"Trojan…" The General's eyebrows lifted ever so slightly as he looked up at him from his desk. " _Sit_."

"Sir." Smoothing invisible creases in his uniform, Trojan took a seat opposite the General, his hands holding the medical report in his lap. Deep within his chest, his heart was racing, his pulse throbbing at his wrists and temples. It wasn't so much fear; Shepherd didn't scare him even though he probably should. It was the disappointment in the room that was near palpable, from Shepherd and from himself. Trojan's work was his life, and in his life failure just simply wasn't an option, not at this level. Being caught unprepared made him feel sheepish, an emotion that he did not wear well in the slightest.

"Price's medical results?" The General extended a hand, indicating to the file. Trojan immediately handed it over.

"Yes. I took the liberty of reading it this morning." He swallowed slowly. "Dr McCoy recommends that Price is unfit for service."

"On what grounds?"

"She feels more in depth tests are necessary, with equipment that she doesn't have access to on the ship. She also questions his mental state and suggests a need for a thorough psychological assessment."

"Really?" The General flicked through the file, a formality more than anything else. "And what are your thoughts?"

"My thoughts?" His voice was wary. "I don't think I have the medical experience necessary to disagree with her, sir."

"No… I don't pay you for your medical expertise. I hired you for information,  _intel_." Shepherd stressed the word, his fingers lowering the file to his desk. He ironed the paper out with his hands, looking to Trojan in the process. Intensity burned through his old, green eyes. "So care to explain to me just how the hell recon dropped the ball on this one? How  _you_  dropped the ball on this one?"

"We knew that Makarov had Price, sir… " The barbed tone the General used had Trojan fighting not to squirm in his seat.

"Don't patronise me, Trojan. Makarov had his trophy, that was the deal. But how didn't we see this coming? How the hell did we overlook the fact that out of every God damn prison in Russia, prisoner 627 was the one man we  _didn't_  want to liberate?!"

"That gulag was operating out in the middle of nowhere, skeleton staff, outdated security systems and computers. There was nothing to even suggest it was still operational, never mind associated with Makarov himself." He paused, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips. "And with respect, sir, I didn't have the resources to keep tabs on every prison in Russia."

"Resources?!" The General hissed his head hanging. His fists clenched, a deep inhale of breath all that was needed for him to bring his breathing back under control and with it his temper. "Price is a liability to everything we've built. He's a soldier whose glory's fading, sure, but he's  _more_  than that. He can't be manipulated, he can't be bought, he asks  _questions_. He's the most dangerous kind of soldier; one who  _thinks_."

"Except he's not a soldier. Not any more."

"And that helps us how exactly? Now he isn't even bound by command. He's a loose cannon, the only allegiance he has for anyone any more is MacTavish. But is he going to follow his orders? I damn well doubt it."

"In that case, Dr McCoy has done us a favour, surely?" Trojan hated feeling on edge like this. He felt inferior, ridiculous, like a child who had disappointed his teacher. "By labelling him as unfit for service she's effectively stamped his ticket back home."

" _Home._ " The General sighed, leaning back in his chair. He folded his hands across his chest, his thumbs drumming against his skin pensively. "Problem is, I'm not so sure I want him home either."

"… Sir?"

"Price doesn't trust me. Doesn't trust the 141 and he sure as hell doesn't trust Shadow Company. Send him home now and he'll have plenty of time to think.  _Too much_  time. He'll start asking questions, wondering who sold him out to Makarov in the first place and why. On his own, he can achieve very little, but if any of this got back to MacTavish… The Captain is loyal, but I'm not so sure he's  _that_  loyal."

"Then what are you suggesting?"

"That we give Price what he wants. Let him play at soldiers again, keep him close, keep his mind focused on the fight in front of him. Hell, even reinstate him at his old rank so long as he's clear that MacTavish still has command."

"So we overrule Dr McCoy? On what grounds?"

"Her concerns were mostly psychological, easy enough to overrule. If… no,  _when_ McCoy asks why her recommendation was overlooked, tell her that I was satisfied with what I saw during Price's debrief. She won't question it."

"And if she does?"

"Then remind her that command exists for a reason. I won't be second guessed by my own task force." `

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

To say that Lara McCoy was pissed off was nothing short of an understatement.

She'd woken up and felt like a love struck teenager. The empty bed hadn't been a surprise in the least, but as she'd laid there, Lara had felt as though John's body was still next to hers. Nothing had worked out like she'd planned, like she'd fantasised, but even so she wouldn't rewrite one line of it. She loved him, adored him, one night in his arms managing to obliterate all the pain and heartbreak he'd inflicted on her over the past six months. She'd felt content, wanted, fulfilled for the first time in years, probably since Toby had left her and her life had solely revolved around the military.

And then she'd remembered Price.

She couldn't let her feelings for MacTavish change her professional opinion, no matter what. Hell, her feelings alone were unprofessional enough without letting them actively come to sway her judgements as both a doctor and a soldier. That being said, after their talk last night, Lara couldn't get John's words out of her head. He wanted Price back, the old Price, the mentor and rock he had once relied on so completely. With the world at war, convention had been thrown out of the window. Having Price around would be against every protocol and regulation in the book, but then again, if it gave Soap the boost to his confidence as a leader than he needed, than what did regulations matter?

Despite all of her faults, Lara was not about to compromise herself as a doctor, no more than she had so far anyway. During her medical career, she had never once gone against her gut instinct with a patient. She believed it was there for a reason, an often overly cautious voice that would be a constant presence at the back of her thoughts whenever she made a medical decision. It was a conscience of sorts, one that she relied upon to keep her observant and thorough. A voice that had been doing over time throughout her examination of Price. He  _needed_  more tests. An ultrasound, a psychological test and those were just the tip of the iceberg. There was no way in hell that she could, with good conscience anyway, reinstate him ready for duty.

The temptation had been there of course, she was only human. But even so, Lara wasn't about to lie to Shepherd . Not when one slip up could endanger the rest of the 141. After all, some things were just too precious to risk needlessly.

She'd written her report, her words frank, honest and blunt. There was no need to sugar coat it; Price wasn't fit for duty and should be sent home as soon as possible for more detailed evaluation and any relevant treatment. She cited the results of all the tests she'd been able to perform on the ship, linking it altogether in what turned out to be a pretty damning report. She'd handed it over to Trojan as soon as she was able, retreating back to her room afterwards. She didn't like Price, more over she pitied him and had no desire to hurt him needlessly. But he had to know and it was Lara's responsibility to tell him the bad news. She'd even made a note to get a copy of the report from Shepherd to give to Price as a gesture of complete honesty and transparency. Not that it would make all that much difference at this point; Price was likely to throw his toys out of his pram regardless.

As it turned out, she'd never had to have that chat with Price. The report that she had worked tirelessly on would be shoved into a drawer somewhere, unseen and all of its advice unheard. The orders came down and for a split second, Lara thought that she'd misheard Trojan as he stood there, his arms folded and his face a complete blank canvas. She'd looked at him aghast, completely lost for words.

Price was back. He'd been cleared for duty, reinstated at his old rank, the works. Every word McCoy had said had been disregarded and for lack of a better word she was absolutely  _livid._ She'd tried to vent at Trojan, to quiz him on the General's reasoning, but he stopped her at every turn. Shepherd had cleared Price due to a lack of sufficient psychological evidence to contrary. End of story. Case _closed_.

It was the biggest load of bollocks McCoy had heard in years.

She'd come to the 141's communal sleeping area/makeshift rec room out of desperation and a need for either a distraction or a need to vent. She knew that Price's return would have all the men talking, but sitting in her room alone and seething had hardly done her any favours either. Worst still, she couldn't even talk to MacTavish. Aside from Price himself, he was the one man she definitely couldn't go to about this.

The atmosphere in the "rec room" was just as she'd expected. Some of the men were gathered in clusters, sitting around, playing cards and talking in as close as any of them got to "hushed" tones. Archer and Toad were involved in a particularly lively debate about something, although Lara only caught the tail end of the argument with Jeff grumpily muttering "fucking wanker" in his partner's general direction. Towards the far end of the room, Ozone and Roach were obviously restless, both men prone on the floor and doing press ups like they were going out of fashion. That was no doubt Ozone's idea, she supposed. Roach was still so preoccupied and torn up over his family that he and Lara had been taking turns in looking out for Gary, each of them trying to keep him as preoccupied as possible.

"Bones..." She'd fully intended on slinking into a corner unnoticed, but upon hearing her name, Lara froze. She knew the voice's owner immediately, there was only one man who barked her name like that. What generally followed that particular tone of voice was never the most pleasurable of experiences.  _Ghost_. He was stalking towards her, his footsteps full of purpose. McCoy's stomach lurched, the last time she'd seen that specific kind of fire in his eyes they'd traded some pretty sharp words. "We need to talk."

She couldn't pretend that her heart didn't sink at his words. Despite her monumental fuck up with their relationship, they'd been doing OK recently, rubbing along together without too much confrontation or awkwardness. Hell, the last time they'd spoken after Lara's less than pleasant run in with Price, Riley had basically spelled it out to her that he still cared, that he didn't hate her like he absolutely had a right to. They were hardly friends, they were unlikely to ever be again, and he'd made it clear that despite caring he still couldn't forgive and forget like MacTavish had been so ready to. Lara knew that she didn't deserve that kind of forgiveness, knew that she shouldn't expect it, she was perceptive enough to realise that at least. She'd been happy to settle for the amicable understanding that had grown between them, forged from the tatters of trust that were left after everything they'd done and said.

But right now Riley looked like he was angling for a fight. Paranoia made her heart race and she fought to push it back. They were on board an aircraft carrier; lesson one was that on a ship like this even the  _stairwells_  had ears. Did the corridors have x ray vision now as well? Did Riley know about last night's moment of weakness? Or was it something else?  _Someone_  else? Either way, Lara didn't want this. Another confrontation with Riley could be disastrous, especially now when her emotions were running so high already. She'd run the risk of saying something she shouldn't, letting her temper run away with her in the heat of the moment. It was a trait that she and Riley both shared, and they'd clashed enough in the past to realise that being around each other angry would only lead to fireworks.

Fireworks that she didn't exactly want the rest of the task force to see.

"We do?" McCoy quirked an eyebrow. She tried to play stupid to the anger in his voice in an attempt to defuse the situation. "I'm all ears."

"Somewhere private."

"This is about as private as it gets, mate." She shrugged, glancing around them. In truth, it really was. She didn't trust herself around anyone else on the aircraft carrier enough to air her dirty laundry within earshot of unfriendly ears. At least surrounded by the 141 and the wall of sound that they undoubtedly produced, their conversation was relatively safe. She had no idea what Riley wanted to yell at her about this time, but she at least hoped that if she could keep him from raising his voice, they'd avoid drawing too much attention from the others gathered around them.

Ghost seemed to agree with her there, although he grabbed the sleeve of her shirt and dragged her to the side of the room. When he spoke again his voice was softer, as though his mind had made the same assessment as hers, but it hadn't lost any of its anger either. "Are you deliberately trying to get this team killed?"

" _Excuse me?_ "

"You reinstated Price." He looked at her blankly, as though there was so much more he wanted to say and yet at the same time he simply just didn't have the words. And odd sense of relief flooded Lara's system, laced with a sense of embarrassment and sheepishness that she'd so naively expected Riley's anger to be all about her. These emotions however, were quickly replaced by anger, building on what she had been feeling before. The anger wasn't even directed at Ghost now, not really. Not content in completely ignoring her medical opinion, Trojan had gone one further and let everyone think that clearing Price had been all her idea.  _Great._ Just what she fucking needed. She'd always only trusted the spook as far as she could throw him and yet she still felt wrong footed at his clever manipulation of the entire issue.

"Riley, fucking come on, mate." Lara hissed, fire burning in her eyes. She swallowed it back, fought to remind herself that Riley was only knee jerk reacting to what he'd heard, exactly as she would if their roles were reversed. "You  _know_  me, you know that I would never clear Price just out of the goodness of my fucking heart."

"What?"

"You heard me. Price might be back, but it's not my signature on the paperwork. Or maybe it is, but that's the beauty of copy and paste these days." She folded her arms, taking a sharp deep of breath to try and calm down. It helped marginally, if only because Riley seemed to believe her, backing off a little so he wasn't quite so in her face. "Either way, I never authorised it. The opposite in fact."

"So this was Shepherd?"

"It must be. The official line was that  _'there wasn't sufficient psychological evidence to support discharging Captain Price from duty'_  but it's complete bollocks. I gave them enough medical red tape to keep them busy for weeks."

"Then we can't be the only ones who think this is fucked up." Riley softened again, some of the tension in his shoulders dissipating. He ran a hand through his hair, agitated. "I don't like it, Bones. I've got all the respect in the world for the bloke Price used to be, the soldier we heard about back in the Regiment. But this? He's been captive for fuck knows how long. How do we know that's still him in there, y'know?"

"We  _don't_. I didn't bench Price for shits and giggles. I did it because we just don't know what he's been through, mentally or physically. I'm sure he's a good man and an even better soldier, but putting him out in the field as an unknown quantity like this... It endangers all of us, Price included."

"Like General Danger Close gives a shit about that. I guess the old breed like to stick together after all." He paused, looking over his shoulder. "Either way, there's not a damn thing we can do about it."

"I already got stonewalled by Trojan. If he's not going to listen then Shepherd sure as hell isn't."

"You think he'd listen to MacTavish?" Riley spoke quickly, scratching at his neck. "Unless he was the bloke who pushed for Price to be reinstated in the first place."

Was Riley right? Now that was an angle that up until now McCoy hadn't considered. She trusted John, implicitly and long before she'd ever fallen in love with him _._  But she also knew how much he loved Price, especially after their strange choice of pillow talk the night before. Would he actually do that? To the task force?  _To her?_  Surely he trusted her enough as a doctor to not go behind her back, not when her reasoning was purely medical. Or did he love Price so much, did he want him back so much that he would bullshit Shepherd into thinking that she was wrong? No, he wouldn't, _couldn't._  Putting herself aside, MacTavish would never endanger his men like that, no matter who he was trying to help. He loved the men that followed him, loved them more than anything else. Maybe the love he had for Price was stronger than what he felt for her, but John had lost too many friends to go against his morals and risk all of the men closest to him.

Then again, he'd broken every one of his morals, his professional morals at least, by sleeping with her. Could she really trust that he wouldn't break them for Price as well?

As if on cue, MacTavish walked into the room, his face tired and harassed. He spared a brief look in her direction, cocking an eyebrow when he saw her standing next to Riley, who was still managing to look pissed off and on edge despite his best efforts. The look was gone in and instant as MacTavish headed for Archer, bending down to speak something directly into his ear. Everything about the way in which he moved told Lara of just how run down MacTavish was and the dark rings around his eyes spoke to her of a fatigue that was born from more than the few hours they'd spent together the night before. In truth, none of them had seen the Captain all day and that spoke volumes in itself. Living on top of each other like they were now told Lara that they only place John could have been all day was in briefings, most likely with Shepherd and maybe even with Price. That much planning could only mean one thing and the mere thought of venturing back out into a new war zone made Lara apprehensive. Being surrounded by nothing but industrial sheets of metal and ocean made the war feel like it was an entire world away, a distant niggling feeling at the back of her mind. Being thrown back into it was their job, their duty, but the world was dangerous now and constantly in flux, the most challenging of environments to master. They had to remain a team, even with Price among them. They couldn't afford to be anything else.

"MacTavish would never do anything to compromise this task force," she said finally, although at this stage she wasn't so sure if she was saying it more for Riley's benefit or her own. It didn't even have to be true, even if Lara hoped against all hope that it was. It was what they needed to believe, what they both needed to hear. Price being reinstated was a fact and bitching about it would do nothing more than potentially fracture the team further. That in itself was something that Lara had no intention of doing. MacTavish wasn't the only one who loved each and every man in the 141 like a brother.

Riley nodded wordlessly, withdrawing away from her and heading for Ozone and Roach. Alone again, Lara's thoughts moved to the future, of the task force, of the war, even her own. The truth was, no one knew what would happen tomorrow, what obstacles they would face or even how many. No one knew for sure where their next battle would be or even  _when_  it would be. Sleeping with John had been selfish, but then so had all her feelings for him up until that point. She'd been fraternising long before they ever kissed, even discounting her ill fated relationship with Riley. And yet, try as she might, Lara simply couldn't make herself regret what they'd done, how they'd come together and forgotten almost entirely that they were soldiers, if only for a few hours. Lara had always known the risks of her job, risks that had only become amplified as she moved onwards and upwards in her career. She held no illusions that the 141 could be the end for her. Playing with stakes so high, how could she regret finally being able to show John how much he meant to her? How could she regret having the chance to see the real Riley, the man behind all his masks and aggression? The truth was that she regretted some of things she had done, the things she'd said and how she'd sometimes spoken or acted first without thinking. But if the 141 was truly going to be the end of the road for Lara, then she could at least be at peace knowing that she would never regret forging any of the relationships that she had, no matter how they had turned out. Maybe that made her selfish, and maybe it had made her a liability too.

Maybe she was a hypocrite in her own way for labelling Price as a danger so readily. For all her bitching and complaining, no one knew for sure whether Price would prove to be a liability or an asset to the task force. He was a complete unknown, but maybe that was the point? Maybe Shepherd in his wisdom recognised that the team might need someone like that in the trials to come, someone who thought outside the box when other men fumbled. Maybe she was being naïve again, second guessing the General at his own game. Maybe she owed Shepherd that much credit, maybe he deserved the same faith that she had in MacTavish and Riley and all the others. He'd earned it, throwing together a group of men from military outfits across the world and somehow getting them to work in synergy. If that didn't warrant faith in his leadership, then what did? She wanted to have that kind of unshakeable trust in him, truly she did, but it was difficult when he was always handing out orders from the safety of a desk. The heady mix of blood, sweat and tears that they'd all shared in somehow made trusting MacTavish and the others so much more easier.

So much was uncertain. Shepherd's motives, Price's state of mind, the state of the world that they were now living in. The only thing that was certain was that there  _would_  be another battle, sooner rather than later. In a fire fight, none of the infighting and politics would matter any more. It would be raw, primal and suddenly everything would depend again on the trust she had for the man standing next to her. If that man happened to be Price, well, Lara would quite simply have to find that trust from somewhere. Fast. Suddenly her thoughts flew backwards in time, remembering a famous prayer that her mum used to have pinned to the family fridge:

_God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference._

It wasn't going to be easy, but maybe that advice was something Lara should listen to. Maybe it was time to let go of all the fears that she couldn't change and prepare herself for what was to come and wherever it might take her.

 


	32. The Lucky Ones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course. Cross posted from my fanfiction dot net account.

Captain MacTavish was a realist, first and foremost. You didn't survive years of SAS training without having a very grounded view of the world and John prided himself on his. Even though his recent actions with Lara might have spoken otherwise, of a man who was living in a fantasy world and yearning for something more, John could appreciate that those thoughts were exactly that;  _a fantasy_. No matter how much he cared for Lara, how much those feelings had intensified now after everything they'd shared two nights before, they were quite literally living in  _World War fuckin' Three_  where battle and valour came before love and happiness. Thinking of a life where things could be that simple was dangerous. There was no room left for carelessness, not with the world already intent upon trying to kill them as it was.

Even in his wildest dreams however, he'd never thought that Price would be reinstated, keeping his rank and yet still answering to MacTavish himself as a superior. It was incredible to think that the old man would be fighting by his side again, although this time, John would be the one giving the orders. That in itself felt like disrespect no matter what General Shepherd said.

Price had wasted no time in relishing his reinstatement. That morning had brought another mission briefing and Price had been one of the first men in the room, his skinny frame now covered by a 141 uniform, albeit one that was miles to big. Regardless of its size, the uniform was meticulously pressed, a return of the old Price who would lecture any new SAS recruit on the state of their kit. It was comforting to see his mentor shining through in that moment, the proud, stone faced Captain that John had come to see as more of a father figure than as a field commander.

During the briefing, anyone who believed that the old man would be a wallflower was sorely disappointed with Price having a great deal to say about the upcoming operation. Their objective was Rybachiy naval base, 14 miles outside of Petrapavlovsk. Intelligence suggested that the naval base was home to a submarine loaded to hell and back with ballistic missiles. Their objective was simple, infiltrate the base and disable the submarine and in doing so prevent any of those missiles from being turned on the United States. There were disagreements immediately on how they should approach the base and as always Price was at their head, calmly talking down anyone who might have an opinion that differed from his. MacTavish knew that tone well, it was measured, patient but backed with an edge that spoke of authority. Price didn't need to shout down anyone. He had the experience and the brains to out manoeuvre any adversary, even the famous 141.

There was opposition naturally and it mostly came in the form of Riley, the lieutenant never satisfied with any of Price's answers. In a lot of ways Simon remained an old fashioned soldier; he'd never try to embarrass Price outwardly and everyone knew it. There was a respect for authority there that Ghost was forced to acknowledge, but it quickly became clear that Riley was reluctant to cede any more territory to the Captain than he had to. The briefing was punctuated by his questions whenever Price paused for breath, Riley standing stalwart in the corner of the Ops room, arms folded and face grim. Winning Simon over on Price's reinstatement would be no easy task and John was smart enough to realise that a lot of his men shared their LT's misgivings even if they weren't as quick to vocalise them.

Bones was clearly one of them.

Maybe it had been too much to hope that Price and Lara could find some common ground. He should have seen their clash of personalities coming considering how well he knew them both and yet John had maintained a vain hope that _somehow_  they'd still manage to forge some kind of bond. Ironically, it was the qualities that he appreciated the most about them both that had caused them to clash; pride, determination, stubbornness and perseverance. Yet MacTavish still found himself wishing that one of them would back down long enough for them to coexist.

He shouldn't have let it bother him, but it was tough seeing Bones and Ghost join forces when it came to Price, united against a man who meant so much to him. He could understand it in a way, Price hardly looking to make friends for himself and yet in some way their alliance still felt like a betrayal. It felt like a kick to the bollocks, another headache that MacTavish knew he could only hold off for so long.

It had been a long, drawn out affair but in the end they had a plan, one that Price had a large part in shaping. MacTavish himself would remain on overwatch whilst Price led a small ground force team, that would HALO to within 1 click outside of the base. Once boots were on the ground, they'd infiltrate and secure the sub, holding their positions until a Shadow Company team were in place to repurpose the submarine. In one operation, a large Russian threat would be eradicated whilst simultaneously the American Navy would be in possession of another large weapon in their arsenal. In a lot of ways it was the perfect mission, the kind of scenario they'd roll out in training back at Credenhill.  _Textbook_. Trouble was, with the world turned on its head, MacTavish doubted anything could be "textbook" ever again.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Pre mission jitters were a something you just accepted, embraced. They took different forms for different people. Sometimes they were the shake of your hand as you loaded up your gear, other times they manifested themselves as that little voice in the back of your head, compelling you over and over to check your magazines and rifle. As she secured her body armour for what felt like the hundredth time, Lara fought to keep herself together and push those very same nerves away. It was just a normal operation, as run of the mill as life came these days. Hell, this mission was her speciality, her paratrooper background making her one of the first picks for the operation. It was rare for her to be back in her comfort zone, so rare that Lara hadn't quite let herself trust the confidence in her gut as she'd inspected her parachute. After all, it was  _good_  to be scared. Fear stopped you from becoming complacent and that was one of the biggest dangers for any soldier to face.

The hangar was quiet as they all geared up, save for the odd quiet burst of conversation. Everyone was in their own headspace, completing their mental checks and rituals. It was oddly peaceful, despite the nerves stirring in her chest. In some ways, Lara felt as though a weight had been lifted. It felt good to have a new goal to think about, to have something to occupy her thoughts and get them focused. She'd spent so much time thinking about her family, about Price and MacTavish that an operation almost felt like a welcome respite.

She was scared, yes. But even with that fear, McCoy believed in the 141. They could do this, just like they'd made it through the favelas or the gulag.  _She_  could do this. It was about time she trusted more in that.

Unfortunately, thoughts of the past were a double edged sword. In an instant, Andy pushed into her mind's eye, his face pale and his eyes empty. Images of Meat and Royce were quick to follow, flicking into her head as though they were a part of some ghastly highlight reel of the brothers she'd failed to save. Lara shuddered, pushing them away with everything she could as she reached up to secure her helmet. She never wanted to forget them, but they couldn't help her now.

"Seen a ghost, Bones?" Roach's voice was at her side and it helped her snap back to reality, a small smile pushing across her lips as she turned to look at him. "I've seen sheets with more colour than you."

"I'm just feeling it," Lara shrugged; there was little sense in lying to him. "Every time I gear up it feels more and more like I'm heading out to a firing squad."

"I guess we kinda are. It's funny, we get the best military training money can buy but they never tell you how it's gonna  _feel_. Seeing your home go up in fuckin' flames. Maybe there's no way anyone can prepare you for that."

"Still no news?"

"Nothing specific, no." Roach shrugged, sitting down beside her, his pack pushed between his feet. "There was an Evac when the attack started, but no one had the time to take a register. My mom's ex-military, I'm hoping that she got them to safety. But there's no way to be sure."

"They made it out, Gary." In an uncharacteristic move of affection, Lara reached for his hand, resting her hand on top of his and giving it a firm squeeze. They'd had this same conversation so many times that she wasn't sure who she was trying to reassure the most anymore.

"… You're right. My sister is probably driving my mom crazy right now, ranting about the lack of WiFi or somethin'," he smiled, a weak attempt, but it was there across his features all the same. "Which reminds me, you still got that letter I gave you?"

"About that…" She had it, the crumpled paper he'd forced into her hands before they'd headed out for the gulag. She hadn't read it, didn't need to. It was a goodbye note, a piece of paper that carried the words he'd never been able to say to his family after the war started. When he'd given it to her there'd been no time to fight him and so she'd accepted it without any other choice. It had been weighing heavy on her chest ever since, the implications of it keeping her awake at night. It was a future she didn't want to imagine,  _couldn't_  imagine and every minute that the letter existed felt like it was tempting fate and bringing a reality where it might be needed ever closer. Lara knew that she feeling the effects of superstitious nonsense and yet that did little to comfort her. Fumbling in the breast pocket of her uniform, she pulled out the letter, holding it in her gloved hand.

"This is still something you need to say in person, Gary," she held out the paper to him. "This letter… it's like you've already accepted that you're not coming back from this fight."

"Last I checked, neither of us get to decide that," Gary sighed, irritated. "Me writing that letter doesn't mean I'm going die today. Doesn't mean I'm going to die tomorrow either. But if I don't know that it at least  _exists…_ I can't go out there and do what I need to do to get this shit  _done_."

"… You're scared that you'll never have the chance."

" _Yeah_ …" The admission was rough for them both to hear, but somehow hearing it helped. Gary paused, a soft hiss escaping his lips as he searched for the right kind of words. " _Look_ … I get it, OK? You don't want to think about losing me. I'm flattered, really. But… I didn't get to say goodbye to my family, Lara. If they make it and I don't..." His voice broke a little and he faltered, visibly swallowing. "I just can't go out there without saying goodbye, even if I never have to. I need to know that if shit hits the fan, you'll get that letter to them."

He'd been talking about his family, but his words sent Lara's thoughts back to her home too, back to the rushed phone call she'd been lucky enough to share with her mum before they'd been shipped off base. At least Lara had the luxury now of knowing that her family was safe, that she'd been able to tell her mum that she loved her. Gary had never gotten the chance and here she was, asking him to walk into battle without letting him have even a small piece of that kind of comfort.

She was being so selfish just because the letter made her uncomfortable. It was time she stepped up and acted like the friend Gary needed.

"I'll keep it, but I'm ripping the fucker up as soon as this war's over." Retracting her hand, she tucked the letter carefully back into her pocket.

" _Deal_ ," Gary let out a soft laugh, visibly relieved. For a man able to wear his heart on his sleeve so easily, he was equally skilled in hiding it behind his cheerful, good nature when he needed to. It was a coping mechanism they all used from time to time, but Roach was a true master of it.

"Besides, when you think about it, Lara, you're the lucky one here," he threw her a mischievous smile, a brief flash of the care free soldier she'd first befriended. "I could have asked you to be the one to destroy all my porn…"

"I love you, Gary but there's no way in fucking  _hell_  I'd-"

"Hey,  _relax_ , yeah? Toad has already been briefed on that one," he was at least smiling again now. "Shit, I think he would have taken care of it even if I'd  _never_  asked."

"He's a more… dedicated friend than me, that's for sure."

"Dedicated isn't the word I'd choose." Still smiling Roach stood, retrieving his kit from the floor and throwing it over his shoulder. He cleared his throat, nodding towards the other side of the hangar in indication. "Speaking of  _dedicated_ , it looks like someone else is looking for you, McCoy."

"Who?" She was already turning around before she'd finished asking the question, a smile moving across her lips when she caught sight of MacTavish, looking about as nonchalant as he could manage as he leaned against the far hangar wall, his arms crossed across his chest. He gave her a curt nod, a polite request for her to come join him. "…  _Shit._ "

"We've got 10 minutes before we move out. Go ahead, I'll cover for you."

"I  _shouldn't_ …"

"What was all that about missed goodbyes, McCoy?" There was a knowing glint in Gary's eye. "Get your ass over there. I'll see you on the other side."

Lara didn't really have the heart to argue any further. Instead, she grabbed her gear and headed for MacTavish. Keeping her steps measured and casual, she fought to hide any emotion from her face. They were hardly anywhere private, surrounded by the rest of the task force who up until now they'd tried to keep so blissfully unaware of their relationship. Then again, Lara didn't want to waste this moment either. She and John had barely been able to exchange words since the night they'd slept together and even though she had every question under the sun for him about Price and his reinstatement, Lara had resigned herself to letting those questions rest. There'd be time to talk after the mission, God willing there'd be time alone where she could ask him everything without fear of someone overhearing them. She needed to know if he'd had a hand in it all, if he'd been the one to help over rule her. She needed to know that she was right in trusting him implicitly.

These were the questions that weighed down on her. She didn't want to take them into the upcoming mission, but a larger part of her didn't want to waste the goodbye that Roach had so gracefully handed to her.

"You ready?" MacTavish smiled when she came close, the familiar sight twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"Of course, hurling myself out of planes was what I was born to do."

"Spoken like a true Para, huh?" Another smile, this time as he pushed off from the wall so that he was standing squarely in front of her. "You gotta know that I'm relying on you today, Bones. This op was  _made_  for you."

"So I hear. I never thought Price was my biggest fan." Try as she might, the ever so slightly acidic statement left Lara's lips regardless.

_So much for leaving Price out of this._

"You know full well I picked the team. Still your CO, last I checked anyway." By the furrow in his brow, Lara's sarcasm wasn't exactly lost on nor appreciated by MacTavish.

"Does  _he_  know that?"

"You tell me, you cleared him." There it was. A falsehood, Lara had done no such thing. But the look on Soap's face spoke of confusion and irritation, as though he couldn't understand her sudden change of heart about Price. He must have seen the report from Shepherd, seen Lara's signature signing Price off as fit for duty. Short of telling a bare face lie to her face, John simply  _had_  to believe that the old man had been reinstated fair and square. Lara's trust might have wavered in the face of it, but she still doubted that MacTavish, the man who cared about her enough to break every rule the military held sacred would straight up  _deny_ having a part in Price's return.

She didn't  _wan_ t to believe it.

There she was, wasting this opportunity in the exact way she'd told herself not to, too stubborn to let go of her pride. A quick glance to her watch and two minutes of precious time had been lost, time she'd robbed from herself by being unable to keep her mouth shut. It was a flaw that often plagued her, but right then and there McCoy swore to herself that enough was enough. She was still nowhere near satisfied, but even if they spent all of their time arguing the fact remained that it wouldn't be enough. She'd only be content after a long conversation with John, an opportunity completely clear the air. Bickering was pointless and would do little in getting her the answers she needed.

She'd drop it. At least until the mission was over.

"Sorry…" She was apologising for her tone, not her mistrust of Price but Lara was content for John to apply her apology as generally as he needed to. "It's just tense out here. We're facing an op under a man few of us have served with," she shrugged. "I guess it's just got me on edge."

"Price is the best Captain I know. If there's anyone alive who could walk you guys in and out of an op like this, it's him." Soap's voice had mellowed too and he stepped that little bit closer. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. "Lara, you've got to appreciate the situation I'm in here."

"I know. And I don't want you to think that I don't trust you," she sighed, looking up and catching his eye. "But I'm not about to pretend I was thrilled in the briefing room either."

"There were a lot of pissed off faces in there today." Soap nodded, running a hand across the top of his head in frustration. His irritation didn't so much seem to be directed at her, but to the entire situation surrounding them all. "It isn't perfect, I know that. Price being thrown straight back into the fire has ruffled a lot of people's feathers. But he's a good man. People under his command get it hard, but he does care underneath it all. I trust that bloke with everything I have. You  _know_  me, Lara. The 141 are my bloody life. I wouldn't risk them for anything, not even Price."

"That's some crazy kind of loyalty, John." She smiled, shaking her head. "Spoken like a true protégé. Do you think Gary'll be talking about you like that in a few years time too?"

"A man can hope, eh?" A soft laugh rumbled past his lips but it was quietened quickly, MacTavish nodding over to where Roach was stood on the opposite side of the hangar. "How's he holdin' up?"

"Better than I would in his shoes."

"He's a roach, alright. I can't even imagine what the lad's going through right now."

"Mission is giving him something to focus on." Lara couldn't help feeling the weight of the letter in her pocket. "Don't tell me, you paired him up with Price so that he could instil some of his mentor wisdom on him, right?"

"Is it that obvious? I figured Price didn't do so bad with me, was kinda hoping he might rub off a little on, Gary."

"Let's hope it is only a little. I'm quite fond of the un-grumpy Gary we have already, thanks."

"Speaking of grumpy, you bloody take care of yourself too, aye?" MacTavish looked her straight in the eye, his voice joking but with a teasing edge. "Your brand of sarcastic bedside manner is an acquired taste, but it's one we've all got used to."

"Now that's one hell of a legacy to leave behind, huh?"

"A legacy that doesn't stop today." His right hand reached out, pushing her shoulder playfully. "I mean it, Lara. No heroics."

"But how else am I going to win any medals?" She laughed, although she didn't return the gesture, acutely aware that they were already pushing it by having this conversation in the first place. The hangar was full of eyes and although Lara knew that so far no one had spared them a second glance, she could still feel the heat of their imaginary stares on the back of her neck. In anything short of privacy, this was as close as they could be, good friends but nothing more.

"Don't you already have a medal?" He quipped, stepping back and putting some much needed space between them. A familiar smirk lit up his features. "C'mon, Bones. You're in the wrong job if you're looking for decoration. Our work is supposed to be brushed  _under_  the carpet, not rewarded."

"Well, cheers for my pissing on my bonfire," she laughed. This was at least more steady territory, smiling and joking even if the jitters in the pit of her stomach did make it feel all the more like gallows humour. "When I want a morale boosting speech, I know who  _not_  to come to."

"I'm Scottish, don't believe in that morale shite, you should know that. And hey, if it stops you from hurling yourself in front of any bullets, I'm not about to complain."

"You remind me a little too much of my da sometimes…"

"And that's a terrifying thought to part on." MacTavish shared another soft laugh, although by now his eyes were looking past her and over her shoulder towards the other side of the hangar. "Looks like you've got a flight to catch, McCoy."

"Let's just hope I packed my parachute, eh?"

"Consider me comforted." With a firm parting squeeze to her shoulder, John gave her a final nod, his eyes filled with an emotion that Lara couldn't quite place. He wavered whilst his hand remained on her shoulder, his lips twitching as though they were caught between another smile and saying something else. Hesitating a beat, Lara waited for the words that never actually came before she returned his nod with one of her own, his hand falling back down to his side. Turning on her heel, the sound punctuated by the squeak of her boot against the floor, she turned her back on him, her eyes fixed back onto where her team were already readying up on the other side of the hangar.

" _Lara_ …" John's voice made her jump and she stopped in her tracks, turning to glance back over her shoulder towards him.

"Yeah?"

"… Be ready for anything, aye?"

"Roger that, sir."

She turned around again, falling into a slow, soft jog across the hangar to rejoin the others. She knew that they had a shared a history with the paras, his use of their motto as his parting remark a fitting one.  _Untrinque Paratus_ ; Ready for Anything. With a operation like this one, under Price's direct control no less, Lara didn't doubt that anything could and most likely  _would_  happen.

That thought didn't exactly comfort her after what could have only be described as a frustrating goodbye with MacTavish. Lara was only human. Underneath her cool façade, her stomach churned. It was torture now, knowing him as intimately as she did. In any ordinary relationship, they would have been in their honeymoon period, tearing off their clothes and losing themselves in each other as often as they possibly could. But in a world where fraternisation was taboo and she'd already made so many mistakes with Riley, Lara was determined to be a better person. She'd taken too many wrong turns, hurt Simon and John both through her own carelessness and naivety and the only way to atone for any of that was by learning from those same errors. Accepting that she'd fucked up was difficult, but essential if she was to prevent herself from screwing up all over again.

This time at least, she wanted to do things right.

In a perfect world, that would have meant ignoring her feelings for MacTavish entirely, but somehow even after everything that was the one 'mistake' Lara didn't regret. Even if she'd wanted to, there was no going back on that particular sin and now in the aftermath there was little either of them could do but keep firmly in mind the fact that despite their personal feelings, their relationship would always be professional first and romantic second. Any hint of familiarity with each other outside of what was appropriate was off limits unless they were both securely behind closed doors.

Even then, the walls themselves had ears these days.

She was a soldier first, a human being second. That was an admission that had been a long time coming. When she'd first joined the 141, that same balance had felt like a duality, giving her cause to falter and flounder. She'd struggled through, felt overwhelmed and made a wealth of mistakes in the process. But that was the old Bones, the green 141 recruit who had imagined a world where she could still somehow marry being a healer and a killer. A place where she'd believed that her emotions could still somehow hold power over her actions.

Now? Lara knew who she was. Who she  _needed_ to be. She knew what she needed to sacrifice and what she needed to embrace. In an ocean of fear and indecision, she'd finally begun to tread water.

The world as she knew it was crumbling around her, distorting itself into barely recognisable shapes. Where there had once been certainty and security, there was confusion and danger. Civilians who had once taken their safety for granted were now running for their lives, families who had only watched atrocities play out across a TV screen were now caught up amongst the fray themselves. Even the 141, who survived in a world where life was temporary and the future volatile had somehow had the rug pulled out from under them and were stumbling to catch up. They'd lost friends and their base in the blink of an eye and now their very  _families_  were at risk. The stakes had risen to almost unbearable heights and there was no amount of elite training that could have prepared any of them for that.

And yet, Lara finally understood it now. This was where the real work started, the space between where training programs saw fit to end and where the real world decided to go. It was a place where cool, analytical thinking was king, where lives were lived in the spaces between strategic operations. It was the kind of place where soldiers like Price and Riley  _thrived_.

It was the kind of soldiering that the new Bones had trained for.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

_Rybachiy naval base_

_14 miles SSE Petrapavlovsk_

_11:22:34_

The first thing any of them saw was a streak of smoke, dirt grey against a bright white sky.

They'd been moving up slowly, unable to cover too much ground until Price and Roach caught up to them. Blown off course during their landing, Gary and the old man had been forced to move up silently through heavily patrolled forests, whilst Lara, Riley and the rest of alpha team had landed at their designated LZ, just short of a klick outside of the small hamlet that neighboured Rybachiy base. With near radio silence from the stragglers, the walk had been tense, a battle through thick snowdrifts and uneven terrain, forever oblivious to Roach and Price's whereabouts. Once on the outskirts of the village, Riley had signalled for the group to take cover on the edge of the forest, the trees at their backs to provide some much needed cover. They'd been crouched in the undergrowth awaiting Price and Gary's arrival, where the UAV Roach had been chosen to control would be invaluable in scouring the terrain up ahead and thinning out any resistance before any of them so much as fired a bullet.

Now, that same UAV had exploded into a ball of orange flame and dark smoke, the roar of the explosion still loud in their ears despite the height at which the missile had found its target. From their position on the treeline, Lara could see the fallout from the explosion rain down on the outskirts of the village, chunks of metal tumbling from the sky and clattering onto the houses and snow below. It was a small mercy that the UAV had been well in front of them before it was hit.

The relief was only momentary. With the loss of the UAV so early on, plan A was already royally fucked.

" _Bollocks!"_ Price's angry voice across the radio wasn't exactly comforting.

" _What the hell just happened?"_ Removed from the mission, Soap's voice was nothing short of confused.

" _There's a mobile SAM site in that village, it shot down the predator before I could fire a shot. Alpha team, be advised. They know we're on the approach."_

"Roger that, Roach. Did you manage to get a sitrep before shit went dark?" Crouched beside her, Riley spoke into his own radio, his hand pressed against his ear.

" _20+ tangos holed up towards the north of the village. They looked pretty dug in."_

"Clearing them out is going to be a shitshow without that UAV."

" _Soap, we need another predator!"_ Price interjected.

" _Working on it, but these things don't exactly grow on trees. UAV is inbound to your position, ETA 7 minutes."_

"We don't have that kinda time, sir. Roach and Price might be sitting pretty, but the rest of us are lying around here with our arses hanging out." Ghost glanced backwards towards Lara and the rest of alpha team, a silent nod all any of them needed to know that they were moving out. "We need to press on, get ourselves into decent cover."

" _They don't know your location, Ghost. Keep it quiet and you could get the jump on them."_

"Copy that. We'll get dug in, lay down some fire. Price, you and Roach get your arses down here as soon as you see an opening."

" _Solid copy."_

A quick hand signal from Riley and the team were running forwards and out of the trees, still crouched, their hands firmly fixed to their rifles. Splintering into two halves, Ozone, Scarecrow and Rook took the right flank, heading around the far side of hamlet. With Ghost on point, Lara followed closely behind him, moving up towards the southmost edge of the village. Once there, they hunkered down behind an old burnt out truck, its thick black tyres well and truly dug into the snow.

"Go loud on my mark…" Riley, the natural leader with Price stuck up on the ridge barked into the radio, although Lara had already manoeuvred herself into position, setting up with a clear line of fire behind the back end of the truck. Up ahead she could see two men, dressed head to toe in white camo not all that dissimilar to hers. They were wearing balaclavas, scanning the outer edge of the village for movement. It wouldn't be long before they were close enough to spot them behind the truck.

She set her sights on the one on the left.

"… Fire!"

Lara didn't need telling twice. On Riley's go she let out a short controlled burst, catching the guard on the left in the chest and throat. Red splattered across his camo and his body crumpled awkwardly to the floor, his mate running for cover whilst yelling out in panicked Russian. Around her, she could hear similar controlled bursts of fire from the others, answered in turn by a flurry of returning fire from the enemy.

Bullets pinged and ricocheted off the side of the truck and Lara took cover, ducking down to avoid the worst of the onslaught. Another cry in Russian and the bullets briefly subsided. Pushing herself upwards again, Lara fired towards the men she had the clearest shot at, forcing them back into hiding. This time her fire was deliberately less effective, laying down enough fire to pin the enemy long enough to allow Price and Roach the chance to reach them. The next barrage of bullets she fired managed to catch one man in the arm, his body dropping backwards out of sight behind cover with an angry, pained scream.

"Check your fire! Check your fire! Friendlies coming in at your 12!" Riley yelled out, his words signalling Roach and Price's approach, the words more for their benefit than Lara and the others. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw them make for the nearest building to her left, Price immediately going on the offensive and laying down some fire of his own. A flurry of bullets soon forced him back into cover and Lara and Riley both capitalised, covering him in controlled, alternate bursts.

" _UAV ETA 4 minutes."_

" _We need that mobile SAM out of action_!" Price's voice was a yell across the radio, although against the cacophony of gunfire he sounded almost distant.  _"Ozone, do you have eyes on the target?!"_

" _Yes, sir, but the we've got multiple tangoes blocking our path. There's no way we'll punch through in time."_ The radio cut out for a beat, static interrupting Ozone's strained voice. _"We can draw their fire whilst you flank them."_

"Roger that. I still have the AT4. I need cover to move up and get a clear shot."

" _We've got you, Ghost. On your go."_

McCoy knew the drill. If Riley was running, she'd need to move up and take his place, laying down fire to support him. Wordlessly, as they'd done what felt like a hundred times, Riley turned to look at her, blue eyes meeting hers through the holes in his mask. Even with everything they'd been through together, there was an unspoken trust in that moment, a bond that had been forged through countless fights like this one. Cold and professional. The way it always should have been. Riley was trusting her and Lara sure as hell wasn't about to let him down.

He was trusting Price too and somehow, the weight of that hit her harder that it probably should have. Lara still wasn't so sure she trusted Price herself. She sure as hell didn't trust him with Riley.

With speed that a man his size by rights shouldn't have possessed, Riley disappeared out of cover, sprinting with his head down for the nearest house in front of them, directly opposite where Roach and Price were holed up. Slipping into the position he'd vacated, Lara immediately raised her rifle, covering his approach as best she could. One man was too slow to get back into cover and her bullets hit him first in the chest and next in the head, his body a ragdoll as he collapsed into the snow. Eyeing another target, Lara fired again, forcing him back just as Riley threw himself against the wall of the house.

She'd been braced for the explosion, but she'd been so focused on looking for targets that the blast still managed to catch her off guard, the SAM site erupting into a plume of smoke and flame that towered upwards. The sound was followed by more yells as the enemy retreated further north into the hamlet, already knowing what was next. Heavy smoke permeated the air, the thick scent catching in her nose and throat.

" _Ghost, nice work on that SAM site."_  Price was first to voice the relief they all felt.

" _Thanks, but we better get moving. Those explosions are going to attract a lot of attention."_

" _Roach… The UAV is in position. I repeat, UAV is in position."_

" _Copy that, Hotel Six. All friendlies be advised, UAV missiles will be danger close. I repeat danger close. All units take cover."_

From that point on, the fight became more of a slaughter than anything else.

After every hit, MacTavish would feed them the number of kills, a morbid commentary that continued as the UAV pummelled the northern tip of the village, crushing man and building underneath the missile barrage. Each fresh hit caused the ground to shudder, explosions and screams never far behind until all at once there was silence. Hunkered down, it had been the best Lara could do to block out what was happening up ahead, focusing her mind on reloading and checking her rifle. Only when MacTavish was convinced that there was no resistance left up ahead did he give the group the all clear, allowing them to finally crawl out of hiding and back into the fight.

The sight that greeted them was a grim one. As they pushed up the hill through the hamlet, the buildings were all but flattened, smoking husks of what had once been. Most startling of all were the bodies. Red smudges across the snow, the stark contrast of bright blood against brilliant white. Some were recognisably human, others were not. Either way, no man in the village was left breathing aside from the 141 themselves.

Pushing any emotions aside, Lara moved upwards towards the ridge that led down to Rybachiy itself, picking her way through the chaos as carefully as she was able. There was no time for remorse when the base would already be fully aware of their attack and time was of the absolute essence.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

From his viewpoint in the clouds, the battle below was almost like a game of toy soldiers, tiny figures fighting to overwhelm and out manoeuvre each other far beneath him.

He might have been well away from the action, but that didn't make the stakes any less real for MacTavish. The figures below might have looked like simple, strobed figures but Soap was more than aware that every blinking light represented someone that he cared for. Someone he loved.

It was killing him to feel so far removed.

 _A calculated gamble_. That was how he'd sold this to himself back in the Ops room when he'd volunteered to handle overwatch personally. There'd been a strong desire amongst the men for MacTavish to lead the ground assault and Price to be the one on overwatch, a desire that Price himself had fought tooth and nail to oppose. Sitting back and giving orders from afar was neither Captain's style, but of the two, only  _one_  had to prove his leadership to the men. Despite the anger it had rewarded him with, Soap had volunteered because he knew Price  _needed_  to be on the ground during this op, in charge and back where he belonged. He needed a platform in order to show the 141 that his legend was still true, that he could lead them all into hell and walk them out again no questions asked. Price was an unknown quantity in the 141, a man who many had heard of but few had worked under. Actions spoke louder than words or reputation and MacTavish had quickly realised that his men wouldn't follow his lead when it came to Price until the old man physically spilled blood, sweat and tears alongside them.

Besides, with Soap on overwatch there was a clear hierarchy for the men to follow. Although he had overall say, he was relatively powerless, more of an advisory role than a command one. With him temporarily out of the picture, Price was the sole voice of authority on the ground as the highest ranking officer. That meant something, even to the likes of Riley and McCoy, so distrusting of the older Captain and his judgement.

It had felt manipulative, making that call. Forcing his men to follow a different Captain when they were already surrounded by such uncertainty. It was cruel in a way but Soap was already thinking of the bigger picture. The 141 needed to be a coherent,  _single_  unit, now more than ever before. They simply couldn't afford to have internal bickering and distrust when the odds were already stacked so high against them.

He just hoped that someday Lara and Riley would understand that, forgive him for it even. It was wrong to play favourites and yet manipulating the two people closest to him had been a bitter pill for even MacTavish to swallow.

Perhaps it was his penance then, to sit powerless and watch his men push through enemy territory, scrambling from cover to cover as they fought their way through to naval base. On the radio, Soap could hear the base alarms blaring, the sub already preparing to dive and slip away into the depths. The element of surprise they'd originally counted was lost and as a result all hell had broken loose.

The best he could do was bark instructions, advising Roach of where to fire and watch for any enemies attempting to flank the small fire team. Everything about his position felt wrong, his heart aching to be fighting alongside Price and his men, his stomach caught in his throat every time someone yelled for support through their shared comms. These men were the best in the world and yet they were fighting against the clock, rushing to reach the sub before it evaded them forever. In their haste, MacTavish was terrified he might lose someone to a hurried mistake of tragic twist of fate.

"Roach, watch your six, BTR incoming!" Soap was yelling into his comms, watching as the vehicle lurched into position. For a moment there was little response, gunshots and indistinct yelling all that filled the radio channel before the BTR exploded from a direct hit by an AGM, fragmenting before his eyes in a ball of flame.

"Good effect on your target, BTR destroyed." Soap's heart thudded that little bit harder.

" _I'm going for the sub! Cover me from the guardhouse to the West!"_  Price's voice was unmistakeable, his strobed figure breaking off from the main group and running directly for the sub. Soap's brow furrowed in confusion and he leaned closer to his monitor, eyes wide. Price going alone had definitely  _not_  been the plan they'd discussed in the Ops room.

"Bravo Six, overwatch not possible inside the sub, suggest you take a three man team, over."

" _Negative, Soap. Resistance in the base is too great, I need men watching my six_." Price's curt response was breathless as he continued to run for sub.

"Bravo Six-"

" _Hotel Six, this is Ghost. Reinforcements incoming from the East. Do you have a visual?"_

"Affirmative, Ghost. Two trucks inbound." Price disappeared momentarily from his thoughts, Soap's attentions pulled from the sub and back to the base, his eyes scanning for further movement. "UAV is in position. Make those shots count, Roach."

" _Copy that."_

The enemy were swarming the compound, scattering at the sound of an AGM raining down from the UAV. Their focus as well as Soap's remained on the western guardhouse where the 141 held their position, drawing all attention from the sub. MacTavish himself was unable to look away, eyes fixed to the screen, calling out targets to Roach as often as he could. His thoughts at that moment were as far from Price and the sub as they could be, instead wholly with his men and their last stand against an opponent that outnumbered them.

In the weeks to follow, John MacTavish would live to regret not keeping his eyes on the sub instead.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

With one loud, almighty crash from a final AGM, the base stilled.

Loud alarms still blared. Flames licked and flickered around the remains of enemy vehicles, whilst human bodies were left strewn across the snow dusted tarmac, their limbs and necks bent in all manner of unnatural angles. From behind the low concrete wall where she'd taken shelter, Lara finally lifted her head, fully surveying the destruction they'd left in their wake for the first time since they'd stormed the compound.

The fight had been intense. She had no idea how long they'd been fighting, her mind lost to adrenaline. She knew that she was exhausted, but the cocktail in her blood stream was stopping her body from feeling any kind of fatigue as her eyes scanned ahead for any signs of life, her rifle held ready despite the relative quiet. After the panic of before, she simply didn't trust this new, sudden calm.

Around her, the others appeared to feel the same. The guardhouse had only had three occupants when they'd stormed it, men who'd seen their sudden advance too slowly and had been still fumbling for a defensible position when they'd attacked. Two of them had died quickly on the steps that led to the roof, caught in between cover. The third had used his higher position on the roof wisely, pinning them down with well timed bursts. It had taken a flash bang to disorientate him and send him stumbling out of cover and then a round of bullets had caught him in the abdomen, his limp body slipping to the floor. Lara had been the one to fire the shots herself.

From there, they'd held their ground whilst Price barked that he needed more time. Reinforcements had piled in from God knows where and yet they'd kept fighting, helped immeasurably by their air support. It had all been over so fast and yet the fight had simultaneously felt as though it lasted a lifetime.

"Hotel Bravo, give us a sitrep, over?" Riley was the only one who had let his rifle drop, his left hand pressing his comm. further into his ear. His eyes were intently fixed on the sub, silently trusting his team to keep watch on his behalf. "Price, are you fuckin' there?!"

_Silence._

A flicker of the slightest movement caught McCoy's attention, right in the very corner of her eye. It was the third soldier, the man she thought she'd killed on the guardhouse roof. He was slumped against the low wall as he had been ever since she'd shot him, a red streak of blood painted down the concrete from where he had slid into a heap. Blood had blossomed out across his abdomen, soaking through the white camo and fanning out across the fabric. His head was moving, but barely, blood dripping from his lips. Lara guessed that her shots had caught him in the lungs. It was a slow, painful way to go.

She looked at him for a second longer, waiting for the guilt to come. She'd been wracked with it in the past, as recently as the favela when civilians had been caught in the crossfire they'd caused by chasing Rojas through the streets. Was this man's pain any different because he was armed? Perhaps. The guilt Lara braced for never came, only a cool recognition of the fact that she had an obligation to finish what she'd started. She levelled her gun at the man's head, her eyes meeting his.

Still, she was numb.

"Price! You need to hurry, the silo doors are opening!" She'd never heard Riley sound this frantic on an operation. Whirling round, Lara's eyes were drawn to the sub in front of them, to where the silo hatch doors slowly lifted open, a sure sign that it was preparing to fire. Her heart thudded in her chest, wartime footage of the devastation of nuclear bombs suddenly thrust into her mind's eye. So far they'd been content to believe that the sub evading their grasp would be the worst case scenario, but suddenly faced with the prospect of the sub actually  _firing_ the consequences of their failure began to feel almost unbearable.

"Price!" Riley was pacing like a caged animal now, his voice loud and harsh as he barked into the radio. "The silo doors are open! Where the hell are you?!"

More silence.

" _Price!_ " Everyone's eyes were fixed on the sub now, but Riley was still the only one to speak. "For fuck's sake, the sub is about to  _ **fire**_!"

" _Good."_ Came the Captain's single, chilling reply.

There was a roar and the ground shook. The missile appeared from the sub, trailing fire behind it, the sound so loud that McCoy could barely hear Riley screaming orders above the din. She, like the others stood totally dumbfounded, her eyes fixed on the missile as it tore its way upwards into the sky, blinding light stinging at her eyes. She blinked hard, finally shielding her vision from the blast. At that moment, no one could even begin to imagine how any of this was happening.

"We have a nuclear missile launch! I repeat, missile in the air! Missile in the air! Code black, Code black!"

Distracted, no one even heard the gunshot.

Lara felt the impact of it first, no pain just blunt force, as though a steel girder had hit her squarely in the back. She staggered and her breath hitched, her hands automatically jumping to her chest. This time it was  _her_  blood that was spilling out across white camo, oozing from the exit wound the bullet had left behind. A sticky warm damp that seeped across her chest and back. It was then that the pain started, a burning, numbing fire that spread across her torso in seconds. She twisted on a reflex, a weak attempt to see where the shot had come from but instead her body crumpled helplessly to the floor. As she fell, she saw the dying man, slumped against the concrete, a pistol in his bloody right hand.

She fought to breathe but couldn't. She was  _drowning_.

White noise. It was crashing against her eardrums, enveloping every new noise in static. She couldn't move, her body unresponsive as she still tried to force her lungs to breathe. There was a strangled, gurgling sound that could only have come from her and she panicked, spluttered. She wanted to cry out, but no matter how hard she tried no audible sound would leave her mouth.

The others were yelling but their voices were distant, far removed. Around her there was so much frantic movement, the sound of a gunshot that was oddly faint in her ears. She didn't even know who had fired the shot.

Suddenly Riley was crouched at her side, his gloved hands holding her face. His mask had been torn away and his eyes stared frantically at hers. He was looking at her with a pained, concerned expression that she could barely understand as his features swam in and out of focus, her vision darkening at its periphery. She was faintly aware of her body moving, twisting, the world shifting as Ozone presumably moved her onto her side. She lost sight of Riley's face in that moment, but she could still hear his voice above the static in her ears.

"Bones…  _Lara_ … For fuck's sake, stay with us, yeah? Just stay awake for a few minutes longer…"

She wanted to listen to him, tried desperately with everything she had but her body felt cold and her eyes were heavy and closing of their own accord. The white noise was becoming quieter now, but so were the voices too, the world fading. She was losing consciousness, no matter how hard she tried to fight it.

She didn't want to leave them.  _Not like this._

"… Lara,  _please_ …" Even Riley's voice was desperate now. She could hear his pleas, his voice faltering, but it was as though he was talking to someone else, as though she was suddenly a spectator, removed from the roof top she knew she was lying on. Everything was drifting, floating. Even the pain wasn't so bad anymore. With one more concerted effort she managed to force open her eyes, just enough to see Roach in the corner, shouting down his radio for a CASEVAC. Her body was jerking, movements made by the men now frantically trying to save her life. Someone was still holding her head as her eyes slid closed once more, this time too heavy for her fight.

It was the last time she'd ever see her friends again.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

' _And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones_  
'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs  
Setting fire to our insides for fun  
Collecting names of the lovers that went wrong  
The lovers that went wrong.'

 

**_Youth by Daughter_ **

 


End file.
